Where, near the fountain, SOMETHING like DESPAIR Made, of that weeping willow, garlands for her hair. And eke with painful fingers she inwove Many an uncouth stem of savage thorn"The willow garland, that was for her love, And these her bleeding temples would adorn." With sighs her heart nigh burst, salt tears fast fell, As mournfully she bended o'er that sacred well. To whom when I addrest myself to speak, She lifted up her eyes, and nothing said; The delicate red came mantling o'er her cheek, And, gath'ring up her loose attire, she fled To the dark covert of that woody shade, And in her goings seem'd a timid gentle maid.' Revolving in my mind what this should mean, And why that lovely lady plained so; Perplex'd in thought at that mysterious scene, And doubting if 'twere best to stay or go,.. I cast mine eyes in wistful gaze around, When from the shades came slow a small and plaintive sound. "PSYCHE am I, who love to dwell In these brown shades, this woody dell, At thy feet what thou dost see If haply so my day of grace Be not yet past; and this lone place, "Why dost thou weep, thou gentle maid! "O! I have done a deed of shame, "And who the promised spouse, declare: And what those bridal garments were.” "Severe and saintly righteousness Compos'd the clear white bridal dress; JESUS, the son of Heaven's high king, Bought with his blood the marriage ring. A wretched sinful creature, I Soon to these murky shades I came, Whose waters clear have influence From sin's foul stains the soul to cleanse; And, night and day, I them augment With tears, like a true penitent, Until, due expiation made, And fit atonement fully paid, The lord and bridegroom me present, "Now Christ restore thee soon"-I said, And thenceforth all my dream was fled. DIALOGUE BETWEEN A MOTHER AND CHILD. CHILD. "O LADY, lay your costly robes aside, No longer may you glory in your pride." MOTHER. Wherefore to-day art singing in mine ear Why sing sad songs, were made so long ago? CHILD. O, mother, lay your costly robes aside, MOTHER. I pray thee, pretty one, now hold thy tongue, Play with the bride-maids, and be glad, my boy, For thou shalt be a second father's joy. |