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I ask'd—'twas whisper'd, the device
THE WATERFALL AND THE EGLANTINE.
“Begone, thou fond presumptuous elf,"
Exclaimed a thundering voice,
Between me and my choice!”
That, all bespattered with his foam,
In an unhappy home.
“ Dost thou presume my course to block?
Off, off! or, puny thing!
To which thy fibres cling."
The food was tyrannuus and strong ;
Nor did he utter groan or sigh,
He ventured to reply.
“ Ah !” said the Briar, “ blame me not;
Why should we dwell in strife ? We who in this, our natal spot,
Once lived a happy life! You stirred me on my rocky bed What pleasure through my veins you spread !
The Summer long, from day to day, My leaves you freshened and bedewed ; Nor was it common gratitude
That did your cares repay.
“ When Spring came on with bud and bell,
Among these rocks did I
That gentle days were nigh!
And in my leaves—now shed and goneThe linnet lodged, and for us two Chaunted his pretty songs, when you
Had little voice, or none.
“But now proud thoughts are in your breast
What grief is mine you see.
Together we might be!
Rich store of scarlet hips is mine,
A happy Eglantine !”
What more he said I cannot tell,
With unabating haste;
Those accents were his last.