Page:A Tale of the Secret Tribunal.pdf/28

 The Autumn moon slept bright and still On fading wood and purple hill; The vintager had hush'd his lay, The fisher shunn'd the blaze of day, And silence, o'er each green recess, Brooded in misty sultriness. But soon a low and measur'd sound Broke on the deep repose around; From Lindheim's towers a glancing oar Bade the stream ripple to the shore. Sweet was that sound of waves which parted The fond, the true, the noble-hearted; And smoothly seem'd the bark to glide, And brightly flow'd the reckless tide, Though, mingling with its current, fell The last warm tears of love's farewell.