To a river roaring higher;
And she held her brother, and he became
A flood of the raging fire;
She shrieked and sank, and the wild elves laughed,
Till mountain rang and mire.—
But oh! the fire yet burns in my brain,
And the hour is gone, and comes not again.
VIII.
“Oh, maiden, why waxed thy faith so faint,
Thy spirit so slack and slaw?