A haunt of beauties rare.
The gay dawn smells more fragrant there,
(When youthful May, new, fresh and fair,
Comes, bird-like through the laughing air,)
Than it was even of old;
And Evening throws a richer dress,
(O'er Elfindale's mild loveliness,)
Of fading pink and gold.
The moonlight nights are lovelier now,
On silent Elfindale;
More pure the beams, more soft the glow,
That sleeps upon the vale:
So much of beauty God hath given
To sweetest Frankie--gracious Heaven!
She spares so much to beautify,
Fair Elfindale to my charm'd eye,--
And yet she loses none at all
Of that which holds my soul in thrall.
Now, if my harp shall echo well,
The story of her life, and tell,
In worthy feet, her beauty's power
That flourished as a springtime flower,
I shall be richer, happier far
Than one should own a round, bright star.
And what if the fair maid should smile,
To hear my warbled strain?
Ah! that would all my grief beguile,
Undo the life of Pain.
I one time saw a laughing mirth
Leap in the maiden's eyes,