Maria murmured Axel’s name,
In woods her sighs repeat the same,
And vales and hills send back her calls.
“What oath, pray, was it so austere?
Some maid in that bleak land so dear,
An older flame? or is there more
Than one? My heart spurns three or four!
Thou Northern maid in snow attire,
One of us twain must to the grave!
Thou knowest naught of Southern fire.