48
Sat the War-worn, while mirthfully
The other Two passed on;—
By heaven! one was a comely bride,
Her face gleamed in the moon,
As richly as in full-fleshed pride,
Bright roses burst in June;
Methought she was the maiden mild,[1]
That whilome loved the wandering Childe!
But it was not her former love
That wandered with her there—
Oh, no! long absence well may move
A maiden to despair;
Old loves we cast unto the winds,
Old vows into the sea,
'Tis lightsome for all gentle minds
To be as fancy free.
So the Vow-pledged One loved another,
And wantoned with a younger brother.
I heard a dull, hoarse, chuckle sound,
Beside that trysting-tree;
- ↑ Methought she seemed the maiden mild.—MS. copy.
