 | Poems by Miss H. F. Gould |  |
186
THE SPANISH GIRL.
A fair, young Andalusian maid
Was out on the bank of a winding river,
As down through a flow'ry vale it strayed,
To lose itself in the Guadalquiver:
And the girl was chasing a butterfly
Alone, when the son of her king came by.
Was out on the bank of a winding river,
As down through a flow'ry vale it strayed,
To lose itself in the Guadalquiver:
And the girl was chasing a butterfly
Alone, when the son of her king came by.
She ran, while the pure, fresh morning air
With her light Mantilla's head was playing;
It flushed her cheek; and her raven hair
In its loosened locks to the wind was straying.
But it never entered the maiden's mind,
That the son of her king was close behind.
With her light Mantilla's head was playing;
It flushed her cheek; and her raven hair
In its loosened locks to the wind was straying.
But it never entered the maiden's mind,
That the son of her king was close behind.
But he, while he gazed on her beaming face
And sylph-like form, felt his heart grow tender:
So he thought, sub rosa, he 'd watch the chase,
To see where the hope of her prize would send her.
A clump of flower-shrubs wove a screen,
And he stepped behind it to view the scene.
And sylph-like form, felt his heart grow tender:
So he thought, sub rosa, he 'd watch the chase,
To see where the hope of her prize would send her.
A clump of flower-shrubs wove a screen,
And he stepped behind it to view the scene.
Though bright were the colors the insect wore,
The soft black eyes of the maid were brighter;
And light little feet the pursuer bore,
But the wing of the fugitive still was lighter:
For, every time that it tired and lit,
She crept near enough just to startle it.
The soft black eyes of the maid were brighter;
And light little feet the pursuer bore,
But the wing of the fugitive still was lighter:
For, every time that it tired and lit,
She crept near enough just to startle it.
187
At length it tacked with a lazy whirl,
Like a sportive child with its fellow playing;
While after it ran the delighted girl,
The whim of a butterfly still obeying.
Intent on the jewel, that charmed her eye,
She still saw not that the prince was nigh.
Like a sportive child with its fellow playing;
While after it ran the delighted girl,
The whim of a butterfly still obeying.
Intent on the jewel, that charmed her eye,
She still saw not that the prince was nigh.
But soon it lit on an osier bough,
And seemed, for a moment, calmly sleeping.
Said the joyous girl, “I will have thee now!”
But she heeded not that the waves were sweeping
Along the bank, where the osier threw
Its frail arms out, and the tall grass grew.
And seemed, for a moment, calmly sleeping.
Said the joyous girl, “I will have thee now!”
But she heeded not that the waves were sweeping
Along the bank, where the osier threw
Its frail arms out, and the tall grass grew.
She gave one bound, and the pleasing snare,
That the wily insect laid, had caught her;
A quick, faint cry to the passing air,
And her light young form met the cold, dark water!
But the noble heir of the Spanish throne,
To save her life, quite forgot his own.
That the wily insect laid, had caught her;
A quick, faint cry to the passing air,
And her light young form met the cold, dark water!
But the noble heir of the Spanish throne,
To save her life, quite forgot his own.
For, swift as a dart from the tight-drawn string,
He flew to the stream for the sinking maiden;
And the youthful arms of the future king
Came up with their precious trophy laden;
While the wildered girl thought a minister
Of heaven had come down to rescue her.
He flew to the stream for the sinking maiden;
And the youthful arms of the future king
Came up with their precious trophy laden;
While the wildered girl thought a minister
Of heaven had come down to rescue her.
But soon he proved he belonged to earth,
And to link her fate to his own besought her.
He gave her the rank of a royal birth,
As a prince's bride and a monarch's daughter;—
The first fair maid ever raised so high
By the playful wings of a butterfly!
And to link her fate to his own besought her.
188
As a prince's bride and a monarch's daughter;—
The first fair maid ever raised so high
By the playful wings of a butterfly!
| Poems by Miss H. F. Gould | |