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LEWTI,

Or the CIRCASSIAN LOVE- CHANT.

At midnight by the stream I rov'd
To forget the form I lov'd.
Image of Lewti! from

my

mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
The moon was high, the moonlight gleam,

And the shadow of a star
Heav'd upon Tamaha's stream;

But the rock shone brighter far,
The rock half shelter'd from my view,
By pendant boughs of tressy yew.-
So shines my Lewti's forehead fair,
Gleaming thro' her sable hair.
Image of Lewti! from

my

mind Depart; for Lewti is not kind.

I saw a cloud of palest hue,

Onward to the moon it pass'd.
Still brighter and more bright it grew,
With floating colours not a few,

Till it reach'd the moon at last;

Then the cloud was wholly bright,
With a rich and amber light;
And so with many a hope I seek,

And with such joy I find my Lewti; And even so my pale wan cheek

Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty! Nay, treach'rous image! leave my mind, If Lewti never will be kind.

The little cloud-it floats away,

Away it goes-away so soon!
Alas! it has no power to stay :
Its hues are dim, its hues are grey-

Away it passes from the moon.
How mournfully it seems to fly,

Ever fading more and more, To joyless regions of the sky.

And now 'tis whiter than before, As white as my poor cheek will be,

When, Lewti! on my couch I lie, A dying man for love of thee. Nay, treach'rous image! leave my mind And yet thou didst not look unkind !

I saw a vapour in the sky,

Thin, and white, and very high. I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud

Perhaps the breezes that can fly

Now below, and now above,
Have snatch'd aloft the lawny shroud

Of lady fair-that died for love;
For Maids, as well as Youths, have perish'd
From fruitless love too fondly cherish'd !
Nay, treach'rous image! leave my mind
For Lewti never will be kind.

Hush !

my

heedless feet from under Slip the crumbling banks for ever; Like echoes to a distant thunder,

They plunge into the gentle river.
The river swans have heard my tread,
And startle from their reedy bed.
O beauteous birds ! methinks ye measure

Your movements to some heavenly tune! beauteous birds ! 'tis such a pleasure

To see you move beneath the moon,
I would it were your true delight
To sleep by day and wake all night.

I know the place where Lewti lies, When silent night has clos'd her eyes It is a breezy jasmin bower,

The nightingale sings o'er her head; Had I the enviable power

To creep unseen with noiseless tread, Then should I view her bosom white Heaving lovely to the sight, As these two swans together heave On the gently-swelling wave. O that she saw me in a dream,

And dreamt that I had died for care ! All pale and wasted I would seem,

Yet fair withal, as spirits are. I'd die indeed, if I might see Her bosom heave, and heave for me! Sootbe, gentle image! soothe my mind! To-morrow Lewti may be kind.

The CHILD of SORROW's TALE.

Deny, but do not taunt a maid

Who never scorn with scorn repays ; Proud man, though now I ask your aid

Mine once, alas ! were happier days. But Sorrow mark'd me for her own

Before I told my twentieth year Yet when my friends began to frown,

I but reproach'd them withA TEAR.

I ne'er could frame the harsh reply,

The look unkind by feeling fear'd, E'en when I met disdain's cold

eye, E’en when I cruel language heard. I've seen my friend, my earliest friend, Refuse

my

tale of woe to hear ; Yet still unwilling to offend,

All my remembrance was-A TEAK.

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