But I oped my eyes at last, And I heard a muffled sound;'Twas the night-breeze, come to say That the snow was on the ground.
Then I knew that there was rest On the mountain's bosom free;So I left my fevered couch, And I flew to waken thee!
I have flown to waken thee--
For, if thou wilt not arise, Then my soul can drink no peace From these holy moonlight skies.
And this waste of virgin snow To my sight will not be fair, Unless thou wilt smiling come, Love, to wander with me there.
Then, awake! Maria, wake!
For, if thou couldst only know How the quiet moonlight sleeps On this wilderness of snow, And the groves of ancient trees, In their snowy garb arrayed, Till they stretch into the gloom Of the distant valley's shade;I know thou wouldst rejoice To inhale this bracing air;Thou wouldst break thy sweetest sleep To behold a scene so fair.
O'er these wintry wilds, ALONE, Thou wouldst joy to wander free;And it will not please thee less, Though that bliss be shared with me.
THE CAPTIVE DOVE.
Poor restless dove, I pity thee;And when I hear thy plaintive moan, I mourn for thy captivity, And in thy woes forget mine own.
To see thee stand prepared to fly, And flap those useless wings of thine, And gaze into the distant sky, Would melt a harder heart than mine.
In vain--in vain! Thou canst not rise:
Thy prison roof confines thee there;Its slender wires delude thine eyes, And quench thy longings with despair.
Oh, thou wert made to wander free In sunny mead and shady grove, And far beyond the rolling sea, In distant climes, at will to rove!
Yet, hadst thou but one gentle mate Thy little drooping heart to cheer, And share with thee thy captive state, Thou couldst be happy even there.
Yes, even there, if, listening by, One faithful dear companion stood, While gazing on her full bright eye, Thou mightst forget thy native wood But thou, poor solitary dove, Must make, unheard, thy joyless moan;The heart that Nature formed to love Must pine, neglected, and alone.
SELF-CONGRATULATION.