That mind in whose regard all things were placed And though he mourned her long, 'twas with such wo, As if her spirit watched him still below. TO THE RAINBOW. TRIUMPHAL arch, that fill'st the sky I ask not proud philosophy To teach me what thou art— Still seem as to my childhood's sight, A midway station given For happy spirits to alight Betwixt the earth and heaven. Can all that optic teach, unfold When Science from Creation's face Enchantment's veil withdraws, What lovely visions yield their place N And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, When o'er the green undeluged earth And when its yellow lustre smiled Methinks, thy jubilee to keep, Nor ever shall the Muse's eye The earth to thee her incense yields, For, faithful to its sacred page, THE BRAVE ROLAND.* THE brave Roland!-the brave Roland!- And thy faithful bosom swooned with pain, In For the loss of thine own true knight. yon But why so rash has she ta'en the veil, 'Twas her own dear warrior's horn! Wo! wo! each heart shall bleed-shall break! And he had clasped those peerless charms Or meet him but in heaven. T'he tradition which forms the substance of these stanzas is still preserved in Germany. An ancient tower on a height, called the Rolandseck, a few miles above Boun on the Rhine, is shown as the habitation which Roland built in sight of a nunnery, into which his mistress had retired, on having heard an unfounded account of his death. Whatever may be thought of the credibility of the legend, its scenery must be recollected with pleasure by every one who has ever visited the romantic landscape of the Drachenfells, the Rolandseck, and the beau tiful adjacent islet of the Rhine, where a nunnery still stands. It was dear still midst us WOES: Ive he inver to wreathe he height ang ar And to think the test amn er prayer, There's yet one window of that pile, Which he built above the Nun's green Isle ; (When the shant and organ sounded slow) She died! He sought the battle-plain; LIGHT rued false Ferdinand, to be a lovely maid |