University of Virginia Library

ERROL'S DREAM.

I bade the beauteous fair goodnight,
And tore me from her spelly sight,
I passed the wood and moonlight hill,
But all her charms pursued me still,
Still, still, in all its blooming grace
I gazed upon that angel face,
And the last, lovely look it wore
Still darted to my bosom's core.
I sought my couch, and, heat-opprest,
Soon sank my weary form to rest;
But my charmed soul at pleasure roved,
And fondly dwelt on all it loved.
Through fragrant meads and groves I strayed,
Conducted by my joyous maid!
I saw her gain a fountain's side
In all her native beauty's pride,
Throw back her long and curly hair
With innocent and playful air,
And bending o'er the warbling wave
The ivory of her forehead lave.
The sweetest flowers I brought her now
To deck her bosom and her brow,
Now, of her smiles and beauty proud,
I led her through a wondering crowd,
Marked every youth's enraptured eye,
And saw each maiden check a sigh.
But, while my heart swelled high, she took
With a half sad, half sportive look,
Those blossoms, which the winds carest
So lately, withered from her breast,
And still on them and still on me
Her bright eye fixt alternately.
The glowing scenes of Fancy shift
That moment, in transition swift,
As some damp day-thought comes to blight
Hopes that have gained too proud a height.
Low lying on a lonely bed,
While one pale lamp its glimmer shed—
A form appeared, all friendless, lone,
Deserted—e'en to me unknown,
Till a faint voice in accents low,
But softly sweet its tone of woe,
Fronounced my name—those tones I felt;
Ah! with what trembling haste I knelt!
And hoping, fearing, bent to see
Who the sad sufferer might be.
On her pale face the pale beam fell;
'Twas her I lately loved so well,
Disease her glossy locks had shorn,
The roses of her cheek were gone,
And those sweet lips so fresh before
In smiling beauty oped no more.
Her voice, her eye, though lustre-reft,
Still spoke her soul—no more was left.
While doubting mine with generous pride,
She strove that soul's dear thoughts to hide,
And said, “Oh! Errol, seek a bride,
Who all the splendour of her charms
Preserves and treasures for thy arms.
I wish not to retain thee now,
And Fate has cancelled every vow.”
But that pale cheek, and streaming tear,
And trembling hand, were far more dear,
Than all the cheeks and all the eyes
That wake an Eastern monarch's sighs.
And all I witnessed, all I felt,
While by that wasted form I knelt,
But to my bleeding bosom proved
How deeply and how true it loved.