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LEWTI, OR THE CIRCASSIAN
At midnight by the stream I roved,
The Moon was high, the moonlight gleam
And the shadow of a star Heaved
Tamaha's stream; But the rock shone brighter far, The rock half sheltered from
I saw a cloud of palest hue,
Onward to the Moon it passed ;
Till it reached the Moon at last :
And with such joy I find my Lewti ;
Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty ! Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind, If Lewti never will be kind.
The little cloud-it floats away,
Away it goes; away so soon?
Away it passes from the Moon!
Ever fading more and more, To joyless regions of the sky,
And now 'tis whiter than before ! As white as my poor cheek will be,
When Lewti! on my couch I lie, A dying man for love of thee.
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mindAnd yet, thou did'st not look unkind.
I saw a vapour in the sky,
Thin, and white, and very high ; I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud :
Perhaps the breezes that can fly
Now below and now above,
Of Lady fair--that died for love.
Hush! my heedless feet from under
Slip the crumbling banks for ever : Like echoes to a distant thunder,
They plunge into the gentle river. The river-swans have heard my tread, And startle from their reedy bed. O beauteous Birds! methinks ye measure
Your movements to some heavenly tune! O beauteous Birds ! 'tis such a pleasure
To see you move beneath the Moon,
I would it were your true delight
I know the place where Lewti lies,
It is a breezy jasmine-bower,
Voice of the Night! had I the power
Oh! that she saw me in a dream
And dreamt that I had died for care; All pale and wasted I would seem,
Yet fair withal, as spirits are ! I'd die indeed, if I might see Her bosom heave, and heave for me! Soothe, gentle image! soothe my mind! To-morrow Lewti may be kind.
THE PICTURE, OR THE LOVER'S
THROUG II weeds and thorns, and matted underwood