 | The Poetical Works of Robert Anderson |  |
THE FAIR-HAIR'D MAID.
When wearied bees with laden thighs
Humm'd, slowly wheeling tow'rds their cell;
When eve's blue mists began to rise,
And all was silence in the dell:
Where Eden's streams are heard afar,
And willows weave a shade,
I left the town, rejoic'd to meet
My blooming, smiling, fair-hair'd Maid.
Humm'd, slowly wheeling tow'rds their cell;
When eve's blue mists began to rise,
And all was silence in the dell:
Where Eden's streams are heard afar,
And willows weave a shade,
I left the town, rejoic'd to meet
My blooming, smiling, fair-hair'd Maid.
I gaz'd, but feign'd a woe-worn look—
“My Mary, dear!” I sigh'd “Adieu!
To-morrow in the badge of war,
I leave thee to some one more true!”
In vain she tried her grief to hide,
I saw her colour fade;
She sunk, a lily at my feet,
The faithful, tender, fair-hair'd Maid.
“My Mary, dear!” I sigh'd “Adieu!
To-morrow in the badge of war,
I leave thee to some one more true!”
In vain she tried her grief to hide,
I saw her colour fade;
She sunk, a lily at my feet,
The faithful, tender, fair-hair'd Maid.
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Anxious, I saw her soon revive,
And clasp'd her to my panting heart;
“This falsehood, Mary, O forgive!
And mark the tear love bids to start:
To-morrow wilt thou be my own?”
“Ah! canst thou doubt?” she said,
We hail'd the long-wish'd happy hour—
She's mine, the matchless fair-hair'd Maid!
And clasp'd her to my panting heart;
“This falsehood, Mary, O forgive!
And mark the tear love bids to start:
To-morrow wilt thou be my own?”
“Ah! canst thou doubt?” she said,
We hail'd the long-wish'd happy hour—
She's mine, the matchless fair-hair'd Maid!
| The Poetical Works of Robert Anderson | |