FLY from the world, O Bessy! to me,
Thou'lt never find any sincerer ;
I'll give up the world, O Bessy! for thee,
I can never meet any that's dearer !
Then tell me no more, with a tear and a sigh,
That our loves will be censured by many;
All, all have their follies, and who will deny
That ours is the sweetest of any?
When your lip has met mine, in abandonment sweet,
Have we felt as if virtue forbid it?—
Have we felt as if Heaven denied them to meet?—
No, rather 'twas Heaven that did it!
So innocent, love, is the pleasure we sip,
So little of guilt is there in it,
That I wish all my errors were lodged on your lip,
And I'd kiss them away in a minute!
Then come to your lover, oh! fly to his shed,
From a world which I know thou despisest;
And slumber will hover as light on our bed
As e'er on the couch of the wisest !
And when o'er our pillow the tempest is driven,
And thou, pretty innocent, fearest,
I'll tell thee, it is not the chiding of Heaven,
'Tis only our lullaby, dearest !
And oh when we lie on our death-bed, my love,
Looking back on the scene of our errors,
A sigh from my Bessy shall plead then above,
And Death be disarmed of his terrors!
And each to the other embracing will say,
"Farewell! let us hope we're forgiven!"
Thy last fading glance will illumine the way.
And a kiss be our passport to heaven!
THINK on that look of humid ray
Which for a moment mixed with mine,
And for that moment seemed to say,
"I dare not, or I would be thine!"
Think, think on every smile and glance,
On all thou hast to charm and move,
And then forgive my bosom's trance,
And tell me 'tis not sin to love!
On! not to love thee were the sin;
For sure if Heaven's decrees be done.
Thou, thou art destined still to win,
As I was destined to be won!
For Willumberg's daughter his bosom had beat,
For Rose, who was bright as the spirit of dawn,
When with wand dropping diamonds, and silvery feet,
It walks o'er the flowers of the mountain and lawn!
Must Rose, then, from Reuben so fatally sever?
Sad, sad were the words of the man in the cave,
That darkness should cover the castle for ever,
Or Reuben be sunk in the merciless wave!
She flew to the wizard-" And tell me, oh tell!
Shall my Reuben no more be restored to my eyes?"-
"Yes, yes,-when a spirit shall toll the great bell
Of the mouldering abbey, your Reuben shall rise!”
Twice, thrice he repeated, "Your Reuben shall rise!"
And Rose felt a moment's release from her pain;
She wiped, while she listened, the tears from her eyes,
And she hoped she might yet see her hero again!
Her hero could smile at the terrors of death,
When he felt that he died for the sire of his Rose;
To the Oder he flew, and there plunging beneath,
In the lapse of the billows soon found his repose.—
How strangely the order of destiny falls!—
Not long in the waters the warrior lay,
When a sunbeam was seen to glance over the walls,
And the castle of Willumberg basked in the ray!
All, all but the soul of the maid was in light,
There sorrow and terror lay gloomy and blank :
Two days did she wander, and all the long night,
In quest of her love, on the wide river's bank.
Oft, oft did she pause for the toll of the bell,
And she heard but the breathings of night in the air,
Long, long did she gaze on the watery swell,
And she saw but the foam of the white billow there.
And often as midnight its veil would undraw,
And she looked at the light of the moon in the stream,
She thought 'twas his helmet of silver she saw,
As the curl of the surge glittered high in the beam.
And now the third night was begemming the sky,
Poor Rose on the cold dewy margent reclined,
There wept till the tear almost froze in her eye,
When, hark!-'twas the bell that came deep in the wind!
She startled, and saw, through the glimmering shade,
A form o'er the waters in majesty glide;
She knew 'twas her love, though his cheek was decayed,
And his helmet of silver was washed by the tide.
Was this what the seer of the cave had foretold ?—
Dim, dim through the phantom the moon shot a gleam;
'Twas Reuben, but ah! he was deathly and cold,
And fleeted away like the spell of a dream!
Twice, thrice did he rise, and as often she thought
From the bank to embrace him, but never, ah! never!
Then springing beneath, at a billow she caught,
And sunk to repose on its bosom for ever!
Annulus ille viri.-Ovid. Amor. lib. ii. eleg. 15.
THE happy day at length arrived
When Rupert was to wed
The fairest maid in Saxony,
And take her to his bed.
As soon as morn was in the sky,
The feast and sports began;
The men admired the happy maid,
The maids the happy man.
In many a sweet device of mirth
The day was passed along;
And some the featly dance amused,
And some the dulcet song.
The younger maids with Isabel
Disported through the bowers,
And decked her robe, and crowned her head
With motley bridal flowers.
The matrons all in rich attire,
Within the castle walls,
Sat listening to the choral strains
That echoed through the halls.
Young Rupert and his friends repaired
Unto a spacious court,
To strike the bounding tennis-ball
In feat and manly sport.
The bridegroom on his finger had
The wedding-ring so bright
Which was to grace the lily hand
Of Isabel that night.
And fearing he might break the gem,
Or lose it in the play,
He looked around the court, to see
Where he the ring might lay.
And all the night the demon lay
Cold-chilling by his side,
And strained him with such deadly grasp.
He thought he should have died!
But when the dawn of day was near,
The horrid phantom fled,
And left the affrighted youth to weep
By Isabel in bed.
All, all that day a gloomy cloud
Was seen on Rupert's brows;
Fair Isabel was likewise sad,
But strove to cheer her spouse.
And, as the day advanced, he thought
Of coming night with fear :
Ah! that he must with terror view
The bed that should be dear!
At length the second night arrived,
Again their couch they pressed;
Poor Rupert hoped that all was o'er,
And looked for love and rest.
But, oh! when midnight came, again
The fiend was at his side,
And, as it strained him in its grasp,
With howl exulting cried,—
66 Husband! husband! I've the ring,
The ring thou gav'st to me;
And thou'rt to me for ever wed
As I am wed to thee!"
In agony of wild despair,
He started from the bed;
And thus to his bewildered wife
The trembling Rupert said:
"O Isabel! dost thou not see
A shape of horrors here,
That strains me to the deadly kiss
And keeps me from my dear?"
"No, no, my love! my Rupert,
No shape of horrors see;
And much I mourn the phantasy
That keeps my dear from me!"
This night, just like the night before,
In terrors passed away,
Nor did the demon vanish thence
Before the dawn of day.
Says Rupert then, "My Isabel,
Dear partner of my woe,
To Father Austin's holy cave
This instant will I go."
Now Austin was a reverend man,
Who acted wonders maint,
Whom all the country round believed
A devil or a saint!
To Father Austin's holy cave
Then Rupert went full straight,
And told him all, and asked him how
To remedy his fate.
The father heard the youth, and then
Retired awhile to pray;
And having prayed for half an hour,
Returned, and thus did say:
"There is a place where four roads meet,
Which I will tell to thee;
Be there this eve, at fall of night,
And list what thou shalt see.
Thou'lt see a group of figures pass
In strange disordered crowd,
Travelling by torchlight through the roads,
With noises strange and loud.
And one that's high above the rest,
Terrific towering o'er,
Will make thee know him at a glance,
So I need say no more.
To him from me these tablets give,
They'll soon be understood;
Thou need'st not fear, but give them straight,
I've scrawled them with my blood!"
The night-fall came, and Rupert all
In pale amazement went
To where the cross-roads met, and he
Was by the father sent.
And lo! a group of figures came
In strange disordered crowd,
Travelling by torchlight through the roads.
With noises strange and loud.
And, as the gloomy train advanced
Rupert beheld from far
A female form of wanton mien
Seated upon a car.
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