Literary Gazette, 13th March, 1824, Pages 170-171
ORIGINAL POETRY.
METRICAL TALES.
Tale III.—THE SISTERS.[1]
Now, Maiden, wilt thou come with me,
Far over yonder moonlight sea?
There's not a cloud upon the sky,
The wind is low like thine own sigh;
The azure heaven is veined with light,
The water is as calm and bright
As I have sometimes seen it lie
Beneath a sunny Indian sky.
My bark is on the ocean riding,
Like a spirit o'er it gliding:
Maiden, wilt thou come—and be
Queen of my fair ship and me?
She followed him. The sweet night breeze
Brought odours from the orange trees,—
She paused not for that fragrancy:[2]
There came a sound of music nigh,
A voice of song, a distant chime
To mark the vespers' starry time,—
She heard it not: the moonbeams fell
O'er vine-wreathed hill and olive dell,
