A MALTESE LEGEND.
Hark, in the bower of yonder tower,
What maiden so sweetly sings,
As the eagle flies through the sunny skies
He stayeth his golden wings;
And swiftly descends, and his proud neck bends,
And his eyes they stream with glare,
And gaze with delight, on her looks so bright,
As he motionless treads the air.
But his powerful wings, as she sweetly sings,
They droop to the briny wave,
And slowly he falls near the castle walls,
And sinks to his ocean grave.
Was it arrow unseen with glancing sheen,
The twang of the string unheard,
Sped from hunter's bow, that has laid him low,
And has pierced that kingly bird?
That has brought his flight, from the realms of light,
Where his hues in ether glow,
To float for awhile in the sun's last smile,
Then dim to the depths below?
No! the pow'rful spell, that had wrought too well,
Was sung by a maiden true,
And it breath'd and flow'd, to her love who row'd,
His path through the seas of blue.
As she saw his sail, by the gentle gale,
Slow borne to her lofty bower,
Her heart it beat, in her high retreat,
She sang by a spell-bound power:
"Zephyr winds, with gentlest motion
Urge his bark the blue waves o'er;
Cease your wild and deep commotion
Waft him safely to the shore.
"Lovely art thou crested billow,
On thy whiteness rests his eye,
Thou art to his bark a pillow,
Thou dost hear his ev'ry sigh.
"Would I were yon dolphin dancing
Round his fragile vessel's stern;
Ev'ry gaze my soul entrancing,
I would woo him though he spurn."
Here she rais'd her eyes, to the once bright skies,
For she heard the deep sea groan,
And her song it stopp'd, and her hands they drop'd,
Her face grew white as the foam;
For the lovely blue, was hid from her view,
By a black and mighty cloud!
She saw in each wave, a watery grave,
And again she sang aloud:
"But the clouds are rolling heavy,
Fitful gusts distend his sail;
See the whirlpool's foaming eddy,
Hear the seagull's mournful wail.
"Now his vessel greets the thunder,
Now she rests on ocean's bed,
Where in shrines of pearl and amber,
Youthful lovers, love, though dead.
"Gracious Heaven! in mercy spare him,
Shield him with thine arm of pow'r;
On thy wings, oh! Father, bear him
Through this dark and troubled hour.
"In yon convent then to-morrow
Will I give to thee my days;
Flee this world of grief and sorrow,
Endless sing thee hymns of praise.
"But if thou hast bid us sever,
Till we reach the heavenly shore,
I will steer my bark, where never,
Waves nor death shall part us more.
"We will roam the plains of ocean,
Tread the sands where rubies shine,
Drink from starry founts the potion
Mortals taste, and grow divine.
"But his vessel's sinking slowly,
And mine hour of death is near;
Yet I shrink not,—sweet and holy
Is the end that knows no fear."
Scarce the words had died, and the crimson tide,
Flow'd calm in her heaving breast,
When she flew to the wave, to share his grave,
And taste of his final rest.
And the fishermen boast, who dwell on that coast,
That after the ev'ning bell
Has toll'd the hour, in sleet and in shower,
They float on a golden shell.
And all night they roam, where the breakers foam,
When the moonbeams streak the waves,
But when morn awakes and the twilight breaks,
They glide to their coral caves.
Leeds.