Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/216

156 But now the pleasant dream was gone;

No hope, no wish remained, not one,—

They stirred him now no more;

New objects did new pleasure give,

And once again he wished to live

As lawless as before.

Meanwhile, as thus with him it fared,

They for the voyage were prepared,

And went to the sea-shore;

But, when they thither came, the Youth

Deserted his poor Bride, and Ruth

Could never find him more.

"God help thee, Ruth!"—Such pains she had

That she in half a year was mad

And in a prison housed;

And there, exulting in her wrongs,

Among the music of her songs

She fearfully caroused.

Yet sometimes milder hours she knew,

Nor wanted sun, nor rain, nor dew,

Nor pastimes of the May,