Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/80

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80

POEMS.

Came thronging o'er his generous soul,
    And ere the dawn of day,
Up from his restless couch he rose,
    And wander'd lone away.

But Carloman in broken sleep
    Still roved with troubled mind,
Oft in his dark dream murmuring deep,
    "Adieu, my Rosalind!"——

Then in his ear a thrilling voice
    Exclaim'd "Brave youth,—arise!—
The morn that lights to glorious strife
    With purple flouts the skies:—

"No lover to his bridal hastes
    With spirit half so warm,
As rush Franconia's sons to meet
    Red battle's moody storm."—

Abash'd the youthful sleeper sprang,
    And Merovee stood near,
An iron chain was in his hand,
    And on his brow a tear.—

Then quickly round the forms of both
    That stubborn band he threw,
And joined the parted links in one,
    And set the rivet true.

"Think'st thou I 'd cross the rolling Rhine
    And see our forests wave,
And urge my suit to Rosalind
    When thou wert in thy grave?—