University of Virginia Library

BALLAD.

1.

The soul of all the souls that have become
Sweet odours, I am Fragrance from afar.
Deep hid in Beauty's bosom was my home,
And known to me her inmost mysteries are.

2.

I know the secret of the Rose. She blushes,
I know the reason why.
A hopeless passion in her heart she hushes
For the bright Beetle-Fly.
He was a bold and brilliant cavalier:
He woo'd her in the love-time of the year
A livelong summer day:
He woo'd her, and he won her: then betray'd her,
And, breaking all the vows that he had made her,
Upon a sky-built sunbeam sail'd away.

3.

Then the Rose wisht for wings to follow him,
But all her wishings were of no avail.
What she could do, she did. In pilgrim trim
From bower to bower she wander'd down the dale,
And climb'd and climb'd, and peep'd into the dim
Nest of the Nightingale.

4.

The Nightingale beheld her, and averr'd
That she was fairest of the fair. He said,
“Fair crimson-wingèd creature, be a bird!
And I with thee, and none but thee, will wed.”
His amorous song the Rose resentful heard,
And shook her head.

5.

Into that amorous song there slid a tear.
The Rose was weeping, sad at heart was she.
But still the Nightingale with song sincere
Sang to her in the twilight from the tree.
“O wert thou but a bird! thou art so dear,
Thee would I mate with, and wed none but thee!”
“Nay,” sigh'd the Rose, “I seek mine absent fere,
A lover bold and born of high degree,
My heart is sad because he is not here,
Sir Scarabæus he!”

6.

The Evening Wind pass'd by, and heard her boast,
And to the Rose he whisper'd, laughing low,
“Poor Rose, thine absent lover thou hast lost,
For he is faithless, and forsaken thou!
I met him on my travels at the Court
Of Queen Spiræa of Ulmaria.
The Meadow Queen is she, and all amort
Sir Scarabæus, for her sake, that day
Had sworn to break a lance. The tilt was short,
I left him lying wounded in the dust,
And only know that, by the last report,
Thy gallant had received a mortal thrust.
Now all the common flowers that far and wide
Have envied thee because thou art so fair
Are laughing at thee. But whate'er betide,
Come thou with me, and I will bring thee where
Thou yet mayst find him in his fallen pride.”
The poor Rose hung her head, and, in despair,
“Had I but wings!” she sigh'd,
“Had I but wings!”

7.

With laughter light again,
“Thou hast them,” that perfidious Wind replied,
“And I will show thee how to use them.” Then
He breathed upon the Rose, and, undenied,
Pluckt from her one by one her petals fair;
But, soon dissatisfied
With his sweet theft, along the thankless air
He tost the stolen petals here and there,
And off he hied.

8.