Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/97

Rh

She hath wander'd through many a hamlet-vale, Telling its children her brother's tale; And the strains, by his spirit pour'd away, Freely as fountains might shower their spray, From her fervent lip a new life have caught, And a power to kindle yet bolder thought; While sometimes a melody, all her own, Like a gush of tears in its plaintive tone, May be heard 'midst the lonely rocks to flow, Clear through the water-chimes—clear, yet low.