As mournfully she bended o’er that sacred well.
To whom when I address’d myself to speak,
She lifted up her eyes, and nothing said;
The delicate red came mantling o’er her cheek,
And, gathering up her loose attire, she fled
To the dark covert of that woody shade,
And in her goings seem’d a timid gentle maid.
Revolving in my mind what this should mean,
And why that lovely lady plained so;
Perplex’d in thought at that mysterious scene,