Page:Felicia Hemans in the New Monthly Magazine Volume 8 1823.pdf/15



of the Woods! thou art hid no more From Heaven's clear eye, as in time of yore! For the roof hath sunk from thy mossy walls, And the Sun's free glance on thy slumber falls, And the dim tree-shadows across thee pass, As the boughs are sway'd o'er thy silvery glass, And the reddening leaves to thy breast are blown, When the Autumn-wind hath a stormy tone, And thy bubbles rise to the flashing rain— Bright Fount! thou art Nature's own again!

Fount of the Vale! thou art sought no more By the Pilgrim's foot, as in time of yore, When he came from afar, his beads to tell, And to chaunt his hymn, at our Lady's well. There is heard no Ave through thy bowers, Thou art gleaming lone midst thy water-flowers; But the herd may drink from thy gushing wave, And there may the reaper his forehead lave, And the woodman seeks thee not in vain— Bright Fount! thou art Nature's own again!