Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/72

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Amid this peaceful vale, unclos'd on him,My Arnaud! he had built me up a bower,A bower of rest.—See, Maiden, where he comes,His manly lineaments, his beaming eyeThe same, but now a holier innocenceSits on his cheek, and loftier thoughts illumeThe enlighten'd glance."They met, what joy was theirsHe best can feel, who for a dear friend deadHas wet the midnight pillow with his tears.
Fair was the scene around; an ample valeWhose mountain circle at the distant vergeLay softened on the sight; the near ascentRose bolder up, in part abrupt and bare,Part with the ancient majesty of woodsAdorn'd, or lifting high its rocks sublime.The river's liquid radiance roll'd beneath,Beside the bower of Madelon it woundA broken stream, whose shallows, tho' the waves
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