Page:Translations (1834).djvu/123



birch tree, with the verdant locks! And reckless mind—long hast thou been A wand’rer from thy native rocks; With canopy of tissue green, And stem that mid the sylvan scene A sceptre of the forest stood— Thou art a traitress to the wood! How oft, in May’s short nights of old, To my love-messenger and me Thou didst a couch of leaves unfold! Thou wert a house of melody,— Proud music soared from every bough; Ah! those who loved thee sorrow now! Thy living branches teemed and rang With every song the woodlands know, And every woodland flow’ret sprang To life—thy spreading tent below. Proud guardian of the public way, Such wert thou, while thou didst obey The counsel of my beauteous bride— And in thy native grove reside!