THE FORSAKEN MAIDEN[25] (1829)
Early when cocks do crow
Ere the stars dwindle,
Down to the hearth I go,
Fire must I kindle.
Fair leap the flames on high,
Sparks they whirl drunken;
I watch them listlessly
In sorrow sunken.
Sudden it comes to me,
Youth so fair seeming,
That all the night of thee
I have been dreaming.
Tears then on tears do run
For my false lover;
Thus has the day begun—
Would it were over!
* * * * *
WEYLA'S SONG[26] (1831)
Thou art Orplede, my land
Remotely gleaming;
The mist arises from thy sun-bright strand
To where the faces of the gods are beaming.
Primeval rivers spring renewed
Thy silver girdle weaving, child!
Before the godhead bow subdued
Kings, thy worshipers and watchers mild.
* * * * *