The shivering leaf, the breeze’s play,
The fountain’s gush, the wild-bird’s lay—
These charm not now; her sire she sought,
With trembling frame, with anxious thought,
And, starting if a forest deer
But moved the rustling branches near,
First felt that innocence may fear.
She reach’d a lone and shadowy dell,
Where the free sunbeam never fell;
’Twas twilight there at summer noon,