And unfolding the paper, he read aloud, to the great
annoyance of the fair writer, the fragment of a ballad, of which, to do
him justice, he understood not a single word; and had he called upon her
to explain its meaning, she would, in all probability, have found it no
easy task.
LADY LILIAN.
Alone in her tower, at the midnight hour,
The lady Lilian sat;
Like a spirit pale,
In her silken veil,
She watches the white clouds above her sail,
And the flight of the drowsy bat.
Is love the theme of her waking dream?
Her heart is gay and free;
She loves the night,
When the stars shine bright,
And the moon falls in showers of silver light
Through the stately forest tree.
And all around, on the dewy ground,
The quivering moonbeams stray;
And the light and shade,
By the branches made,
Give motion and life to the silent glade,
Like fairy elves at play.
And far o'er the meads, through its fringe of reeds,
Flashes the slender rill;
Like a silver thread,
By some spirit led,
From an urn of light by the moonbeams fed,
It winds round the distant hill.
When sleep's soft thrall falls light on all,
That lady's eyes unclose;
To all that is fair
In earth and air,
When none are awake her thoughts to share,
Or her spirit discompose.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161