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THE GOLDEN VIOLET.
Of moonlight, with the floating isles of shade
Lithe coppices of shrubs sweet-scented made;
'T was dotted with small pools, upon whose breast
The radiance seem'd to have a favourite rest,
So bright each crystal surface shone; and, round,
Lines of tall stately trees flung on the ground
Huge mass of shade, while others stood alone,
As if too mighty for companions grown.
And yielded Eglamour to the delight
Which ever must be born of such a night.
When, starting from his dream, he saw stand near,
Bright as the lake they drank from, the white deer.
Instant the leash was from his greyhounds flung,
They would not to the chase, but backwards hung;
To cheer them on he wound his bugle-horn;
And, ere the sound was in the distance borne
