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of the Alpine valley! I feel, in every vein, Thy soft touch on my fingers; oh, press them not again! Bewitch me not, ye garlands, to tread that upward track, And thou, my cheerless mansion, receive thy master back." THE SERENADE. FROM THE SPANISH. If slumber, sweet Lisena! Have stolen o'er thine eyes, As night steals o'er the glory Of spring's transparent skies; Wake, in thy scorn and beauty, And listen to the strain That murmurs my devotion, That mourns for thy disdain. Here, by thy door at midnight, I pass the dreary hour, With plaintive sounds profaning The silence of thy bower; A tale of sorrow cherished Too fondly to depart, Of wrong from love the flatterer And my own wayward heart. Twice, o'er this vale, the seasons Have brought and borne away The January tempest, The genial wind of May; Yet still my plaint is uttered, My tears and sighs are given To earth's unconscious waters, And wandering winds of heaven. I saw, from this fair region, The smile of summer pass, And myriard frost-stars glitter Among the russet grass. While winter seized the streamlets That fled along the ground, And fast in chains of crystal The truant murmurers bound. I saw that to the forest The nightingales had flown, And every sweet-voiced fountain Had hushed its silver tone. The maniac winds, divorcing The turtle from his mate, Raved through the leafy beeches, And left them desolate. Now May, with life and music, The blooming valley fills, And rears her flowery arches For all the little rills. The minstrel bird of evening Comes back on joyous wings, And, like the harp's soft murmur, Is heard the gush of springs. And deep within the forest Are wedded turtles seen, Their nuptial chambers seeking, Their chambers close and green. The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love; The ivy climbs the laurel, To clasp the boughs above. They change--but thou, Lisena, Art cold while I complain: Why to thy lover only Should spring return in vain? A NORTHERN LEGEND. FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND. There sits a lovely maiden, The ocean murmuring nigh; She throws the hook, and watches; The fishes pass it by. A ring, with a red jewel, Is sparkling on
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