FOR CHILDREN. 303

Turned from the white-robed priest, and round her
arm

Clung even as ivy clings; the deep spring-tide

Of nature then swelled high; and o’er her child

Bending, her soul brake forth, in mingled sounds

Of weeping and sad song.—*‘ Alas!” she cried,

“ Alas, my boy! thy gentle grasp is on me;

The bright tears quiver in thy pleading eyes ;
And now fond thoughts arise,

And silver cords again to earth have won me ;

And like a vine thou claspest my full heart ;—
How shall I hence depart P

“How the lone paths retrace were thou wert
playing
So late among the mountains at my side ;
And I, in joyous pride,
By every place of flowers my course delaying,
Wove, even as pearls, the lilies round thy hair,
Beholding thee so fair ?

“Under the palm-trees, thou no more shalt meet

me,
When from the fount at evening I return,
With the full water-urn !
Nor will thy sleep’s low dove-like murmurs greet
me
As midst the silence of the stars I wake,
And watch for thy dear sake,
* And thou, will slumber’s dewy cloud fall round
thee,
Without thy mother’s hand to smooth thy bed ?
Wilt thou not vainly spread