The Poetical Works of Thomas Pringle With A Sketch of his Life, by Leitch Ritchie |
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STREAMS, WHOSE LONELY WATERS GLIDE. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Pringle |  |
135
STREAMS, WHOSE LONELY WATERS GLIDE.
Streams, whose lonely waters glide
Down Glen-Lynden's wizard dell,
Woods that clothe the mountain's side,
Winged wanderers of the fell,
Tell me in what flowery glade
Shall I find my favourite Maid!
Down Glen-Lynden's wizard dell,
Woods that clothe the mountain's side,
Winged wanderers of the fell,
Tell me in what flowery glade
Shall I find my favourite Maid!
Echo of the haunted rock,
Heard'st thou not my Azla's song?
Sought she not the plighted oak
Lynden's briary banks among?
Lingers she by airy steep,
Or elfin lakelet still and deep?
Heard'st thou not my Azla's song?
Sought she not the plighted oak
Lynden's briary banks among?
Lingers she by airy steep,
Or elfin lakelet still and deep?
Rover of the land and sea,
Zephyr! whither dost thou fly!
Bear'st thou home the loaded bee?
Or the lover's secret sigh?
Hast thou not my Azla seen
Through all the mazes thou hast been?
Zephyr! whither dost thou fly!
Bear'st thou home the loaded bee?
Or the lover's secret sigh?
Hast thou not my Azla seen
Through all the mazes thou hast been?
Didst thou perfume, O gentle gale!
In Araby, thy fragrant breath?
In sweeter Teviot's thymy vale?
On Lynden's hills of blossom'd heath?
Or, Zephyr! hast thou dared to sip
The sigh of love from Azla's lip?
In Araby, thy fragrant breath?
In sweeter Teviot's thymy vale?
On Lynden's hills of blossom'd heath?
Or, Zephyr! hast thou dared to sip
The sigh of love from Azla's lip?
136
Young Azla's eye of tender blue
Outvies the crystal fountain bright,—
Her silken locks of sunny hue,
The birch-tree's foliage floating light;
And light her form as bounding fawn,
Just wakened by the vernal dawn.
Outvies the crystal fountain bright,—
Her silken locks of sunny hue,
The birch-tree's foliage floating light;
And light her form as bounding fawn,
Just wakened by the vernal dawn.
Like youthful Spring's refreshing green,
Like dewy Morning's smile of gladness,
The radiance of her look serene
Might win to joy the soul of sadness,
But where in nature shall I find
An Image for my Azla's mind?
Like dewy Morning's smile of gladness,
The radiance of her look serene
Might win to joy the soul of sadness,
But where in nature shall I find
An Image for my Azla's mind?
The azure depths of summer noon
Might paint her pure and happy breast:
Yet, like the melancholy moon,
She loveth pensive pleasures best,
And woos the fairy solitudes
Embosomed in the leafy woods.
Might paint her pure and happy breast:
Yet, like the melancholy moon,
She loveth pensive pleasures best,
And woos the fairy solitudes
Embosomed in the leafy woods.
The melodies of air and earth,
The hues of mountain, wood, and sky,
And Loneliness more sweet than Mirth,
That leads the mind to musings high,
Give to the sweet enthusiast's face
The charm of more than earthly grace!
The hues of mountain, wood, and sky,
And Loneliness more sweet than Mirth,
That leads the mind to musings high,
Give to the sweet enthusiast's face
The charm of more than earthly grace!
But tell me now, ye Woods and Streams,
Fond Echo, and thou sighing Gale,
Why She, the Fairy of my dreams,
Thus in her plighted faith doth fail?
Of all of you I'll jealous be
Should she forget our Trysting Tree!
Fond Echo, and thou sighing Gale,
Why She, the Fairy of my dreams,
Thus in her plighted faith doth fail?
Of all of you I'll jealous be
Should she forget our Trysting Tree!
137
Ah no! She fails not! 'Mong these bowers
Young Love, I ween, delights to dwell,
And spends his most entrancèd hours
In Contemplation's hermit cell;
Where votaries of gentle mood
Find him with Truth and Solitude.
Young Love, I ween, delights to dwell,
And spends his most entrancèd hours
In Contemplation's hermit cell;
Where votaries of gentle mood
Find him with Truth and Solitude.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Pringle | |