So there they lay,—a lifeless pair,
Whose hearts by youthful love entwined,
Sever'd by fate, and fix'd despair,
Were now in death's cold union join'd.
Full oft in Dalecarlian cells
When evening shadows darkly droop,
Some hoary-headed peasant tells
Their story to a list'ning group,
And oft the wondering child will weep,
The pensive youth unconscious sigh,
At hapless Christiern's fearful sleep,
And sad Ulrica's constancy.
THE ELEMENTS.
Pliny has remarked that "all the elements are in their turn, hostile to man,—except the earth."
Man, on the genial elements depends
For food, for warmth, for solace, and for breath,
Yet foes attack him in the guise of friends,
Destroy his trust, and aid the work of death.
Air, the sweet air, his feeble frame that feeds,
Mounts with the tempest, on the whirlwind speeds,
Breaks the strong trees that o' er his mansion spread,
Strews the loved roof in ruins o' er his head,
Lifts the white surge, the angry ocean sweeps,
And whelms his riches in the foaming deeps.—
