23
When, lo! beside the billowy floodA brighter form than mortal stood, And view'd her with enraptur'd eye.
Like golden threads, or sunny beams,His hair in many a ringlet streams Adown his shoulders fair;Bright was his bloom, and his dark eyeLike star in bleak December's sky, And heav'nly was his air.
A jetty courser, dark as night,Beside him stood in harness bright, And neighing paw'd the sand;With wild impatience toss'd his mane,While gracefully the silken rein Slung from his master's hand.
While Agnes gaz'd with wond'ring eyes,And thought some angel from the skies Had deign'd on earth to tread,The graceful stranger silence broke,Soft music warbled as he spoke, And thus address'd the maid:—
"Shalt thou, oh! loveliest of thy kind!Be to this wint'ry isle confin'd, And in some lowly cell,With all these bright immortal charms,Be doom'd to some rude native's ar ms, With want and woe to dwell?
