Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven

“Long time ago, while yet a twelve-years' child,
These shrubs and vines new-planted near this spot,
I sat me, tired with pleasant toil, and whiled
Away the time with lute, and often thought

“Of the lost land thou lovest: every scene
Which thou so oft, when I had climbed thy knee,
Wouldst sing of, weeping, through my mind had been
In fair succession; when from yon old tree

“I heard a piteous moan. Wondering, I went
And found an aged man: worn and oppressed
He seemed with toil, and said, in whispers faint,
‘O little maiden, how I am distressed!

“‘I sink for very want. Give me, I pray,
A drop of water and a cake: I die
Of thirst and hunger; yet my sorrowing way
May tread once more, if thou my need supply.’

University of Virginia Library

XXVII.