224
The heir of Rookwood.
Through Rookwood's fair domain
Wanders a stream whose silent course is led
By mead and grove until its thread, abrupt,
Breaks on the sharp edge of a precipice.
Betwixt two hill-sides, o'er a deep ravine,
There with white shuddering feet, the waters seem
Fearfully pausing. But with one bold leap
They clear the rent rocks, shouting as they fall
Into a round clear pool, whose crystal sheen
Only the lilies break. Hither I came,
The timed waves harping to my sullen moods,
The banks my couch, my hound stretched near, a book
Of rhymes or romance in my listless hand.
No curious eyes, no cold looks following here
Jarred on my secret thoughts. The blossoms grew
No paler for my loving, the fresh turf
Pillowed most gently my uncourtly form.
Wanders a stream whose silent course is led
By mead and grove until its thread, abrupt,
Breaks on the sharp edge of a precipice.
Betwixt two hill-sides, o'er a deep ravine,
There with white shuddering feet, the waters seem
Fearfully pausing. But with one bold leap
They clear the rent rocks, shouting as they fall
Into a round clear pool, whose crystal sheen
Only the lilies break. Hither I came,
The timed waves harping to my sullen moods,
The banks my couch, my hound stretched near, a book
Of rhymes or romance in my listless hand.
No curious eyes, no cold looks following here
Jarred on my secret thoughts. The blossoms grew
No paler for my loving, the fresh turf
Pillowed most gently my uncourtly form.
I had gone forth one mellow autumn morn
Earlier than my wont. The night had passed
Rent by fierce storms. Torn boughs and drifted leaves
Cumbered the path I trod. The sun shone warm.
Earlier than my wont. The night had passed
Rent by fierce storms. Torn boughs and drifted leaves
Cumbered the path I trod. The sun shone warm.
