That sometimes from the savage Den, In and sunny Glade, There came, and look'd him in the face, This miserable Knight! And how, unknowing what he did, The Lady of the Land ; And how she wept and clasp'd his knees, The Scorn, that craz'd his Brain : And that she nurs'd him in a Cave; A dying Man he lay; His dying words—but when I reach'd Disturb'd her Soul with Pity! All Impulses of Soul and Sense The rich and balmy Eve; And Hopes, and Fears that kindle Hope, Subdued and cherish'd long ! She wept with pity and delight, I heard her breathe my namė. Her bosom heav’d-she stepp'd aside ; As conscious of my Look, she stepp'dThen suddenly with timorous eye She fled to me and wept. She half inclosed me with her arms, She press'd me with a meek embrace ; And bending back her head look'd up, And gaz'd upon my face. 'Twas partly Love, and partly Fear, The Swelling of her Heart. I calm'd her fears; and she was calm, And told her love with virgin Pride. And so I won my Genevieve, My bright and beauteous Bride! The MAD MOTHER. Her eyes are wild, her head is bare, |