Was that a garment which seemed to gleam
Betwixt his eye and the falling stream?
’Tis only the torrent tumbling o’er,
In the midst of those glassy walls,
Gushing and plunging and beating the floor
Of the rocky basin in which it falls:
’Tis only the torrent—but why that start?
Why gazes the youth with a throbbing heart?
He thinks no more of his home afar,
Where his sire and sister wait: