 | Constance De Castile |  |
XXII.
Must I proceed?—The day was knownWhen Ellen weds stern Arragon.
Sad Ellen told each moment o'er:
—Must she ne'er see Alonzo more?
Who, in the bow'r of bliss and love,
Who, where yon pines that meet above
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Shall Ellen's soothing voice recall?
Who form of golden moss his seat,
Green rushes, and the meadow-sweet?
Who, when no wanderer ventures nigh,
Wind round his brow the wild-flow'r wreath,
And, lowly bending, o'er him breathe
Soft notes that close in peace the eye?
| Constance De Castile | |