[DISILLUSIONED.]

And wilt thou never smile again,

Thy cruel purpose never shaken?

Hast thou no feeling for my pain,

Refused, disdain’d, despised, forsaken?

Thy uncle crafty, careful, cold,

His wealth upon my mind imprinted;

His fields described, and praised his fold,

And jested, boasted, promised, hinted.

Thy aunt—I scorn’d the omen—spoke

Of lovers by thy scorn rejected; 10

But I the warning never took,

When chosen, cheer’d, received, rejected.

Thy brother, too—but all was plann’d

To murder peace, all freely granted;

And then I lived in fairy land,

Transported, bless’d, enrapt, enchanted.

Oh, what a dream of happy love,

From which the wise in time awaken;

While I must all its anguish prove,

Deceived, despised, abused, forsaken! 20

One calm, cold evening, when the moon was high,

And rode sublime within the cloudy sky,

She sat within her hut, nor seem’d to feel

Or cold, or want, but turn’d her idle wheel;

And with sad song its melancholy tone

Mix’d—all unconscious that she dwelt alone.