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Nor listen to the charming cry
THERE was a time young Roland thought
His huntsman's call was worth a dozen Of those sweet notes his ear had caught
In boyhood, from his blue-eyed cousin,
Silent he sits, nor cares to follow
His clear-ton'd huntsman's joyous hollo ?
How is it now, when Isabel
Breathes one low note of those sweet numbers, That every thought of hill ard dell,
And all-save that sweet minstrel-slumbers. Why does he feel that long, dull pain
Within my Second when she leaves him ? When shall his falcon fly again ?
When shall he break the spell that grieves hiin?
And Isabel—how is it, too,
That sadness o'er that young brow closes ? How hath her eye lost half its blue ?
How have her cheeks lost all their roses ?
Still on her lute sweet numbers dwell,
Still magic seems the breath that sways it; But, oh! how changed the tone and spell,
If Roland be not there to praise it!
One summer's eve, while Isabel
Sang till the starlight came to greet her, A tear from Roland's eyelid fell,
And warp'd the string and spoild the metre. She could not sing another note;
Wherefore, or why, I've not a notion ; And he—the swelling in his throat
Seemed working from some poisonous potion.
I know not-I-how sigh or tear
Cause these hysterical effusions ; But from that eve, one little year
Witnessed, you'll say, such strange conclusions. Beside my All I saw them sit;
And that same lute of song so tenderA little child was thumping it
With all his might—against the fender!
And Isabel—she sang no more,
But ever that small urchin followed ; Who with the lute upon the floor,
Like a young dryad, whooped and holloed ! And Roland's hound is heard again,
And Roland's hawk hath loosened jesses ! But Roland's smile is brightest when
Beside my All his boy he presses.
Sir Harry has ears, and Sir Harry has eyes,
Sir Harry has ringlets he curls every day,
oned— That she'd ne'er take a bridegroom who hadn't my Se
Sir Harry sat out, the last visit he paid,
MORNING is beaming o'er brake and bower,
Lo! where my Second, in gorgeous array,
Spread is the banquet, and studied the song.;
Look to the hill, is he climbing its side ?