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And pleasant bow'rs of rare perfume,Where nature's loveliest roses bloom, Shall be thy cool retreat."
He ceased,—to Agnes' inmost soulThe voice of adulation stole, And won her changing heart;Yet conscience whisper'd Donald's nameWith all his worth, and constant flame; While rising to depart.
The stranger seiz'd her yielding hand,And lightly springing from the strand, With Agnes at his side,With many a soothing word of loveHe strove her terrors to remove, As o'er the sands they ride.
With hope and dread her bosom burn'd,And many a wistful look she turn'd Upon her native shore;———"Scenes of my childish days, farewellIn happier clime shall Agnes dwell, And never see you more."
The courser left the sandy shore,And sprung amid the ocean's roar, With many a hideous yell;Chang'd was the spirit's heav'nly form,His native waves and roaring storm Had broke the magic spell.
