This Lady Fair, the county's pride,
A white lamb trotting at her side,
Had hied her through the park;
A fond and gentle foster-dam—
May be she slumbered with her lamb,
Thus rising with the lark!
The lambkin frisked, the lady fain
Would coax him back, she called in vain,
The rebel proved unruly;
I followed for the maiden's sake,
A pilgrim in an angel's wake,
A happy pilgrim truly!
The maid gave chase, the lambkin ran
As only woolly truant can
Who never felt a crook;
But stayed at length, as if disposed
To drink, where tawny sands disclosed
The margin of a brook.
His mistress, who had followed fast,
Cried, "Little rogue, you're caught at last;
I'm cleverer than you."
Then straight the wanderer conveyed
Where wayward shrubs, in tangled shade,
Protected her from view.
And timidly she glanced around,
All fearful lest the slightest sound
Might mortal footfall be;
Then shrinkingly she stepped aside
One moment—and her garter tied
The truant to a tree.
Perhaps the World may wish to know
The hue of this enchanting bow,
And if 'twere silk or lace;
No, not from me, be pleased to think
It might be either—blue or pink,
'Twas tied—with maiden grace.
Suffice it that the child was fair,
As Una sweet, with golden hair,
And come of high degree;
And though her feet were pure from stain,
She turned her to the brook again,
And laved them dreamingly.
Awhile she sat in maiden mood,
And watched the shadows in the flood,
That varied with the stream;
And as each pretty foot she dips,
The ripples ope their crystal lips
In welcome, as 'twould seem.
Such reveries are fleeting things,
Which come and go on whimsy wings,—
As kindly Fancy taught her
The Fair her tender day-dream nurst;
But when the light-blown bubble burst,
She wearied of the water;
Betook her to the spot where yet
Safe tethered lay her captured pet,
But lifting, with a start, her
Astonished gaze, she spied a change,
And screamed—it seemed so very strange!...
Cried Echo,—"Where's my garter?"