How strangely the order of destiny falls!
Not long in the waters the warrior lay,
When a sunbeam was seen to glance over the walls,
And the castle of Willumberg basked in the ray!
All, all but the soul of the maid was in light,
There sorrow and terror lay gloomy and blank:
Two days did she wander, and all the long night,
In quest of her love, on the wide river's bank.
Oft, oft did she pause for the toll of the bell,
And heard but the breathings of night in the air;
Long, long did she gaze on the watery swell,
And saw but the foam of the white billow there.
And often as midnight its veil would undraw,
As she looked at the light of the moon in the stream,
She thought 'twas his helmet of silver she saw,
As the curl of the surge glittered high in the beam.
And now the third night was begemming the sky;
Poor Rose, on the cold dewy margent reclined,
There wept till the tear almost froze in her eye,
When—hark!—'twas the bell that came deep in the wind!
She startled, and saw, through the glimmering shade,
A form o'er the waters in majesty glide;
She knew 'twas her love, though his cheek was decayed,
And his helmet of silver was washed by the tide.
Was this what the Seer of the Cave had foretold?—
Dim, dim through the phantom the moon shot a gleam;
'Twas Reuben, but, ah! he was deathly and cold,
And fleeted away like the spell of a dream!
Twice, thrice did he rise, and as often she thought
From the bank to embrace him, but vain her endeavor!
Then, plunging beneath, at a billow she caught,
And sunk to repose on its bosom forever!
DID NOT.
'Twas a new feeling—something more
Than we had dared to own before.
Which then we hid not;
We saw it in each other's eye,
And wished, in every half-breathed sigh,
To speak, but did not.