It was my fate to reach a brook, at last,
Which, by sweet-scented bushes fenc'd around,
Defiance bade to heat and nipping blast.

Inclin'd to rest, and hear the wild birds' song,
I stretch'd myself upon that brook's soft bound,
And there I fell asleep and slumber'd long;

And only woke, O wonder, to perceive
A gold-hair'd maiden, as a snowdrop pale,
Her slender form from out the ground upheave:

Then fear o'ercame me, and this daring heart
Beat three times audibly against my mail;
I wish'd to speak, but could no sound impart.

And see! another maid rose up and took
Some drops of water from the foaming rill,
And gaz'd upon me with a wistful look.

Said she, "What brings thee to this lonely place?
But do not fear, for thou shalt meet no ill;
Thou steel-clad warrior, full of youth and grace."

"No;" sang the other, in delightful tone,
"But thou shalt gaze on prodigies which ne'er
To man's unhallow'd eye have yet been shown."

The brook which lately brawl'd among the trees
Stood still, the murmur of that song to hear;