1.

Oh, hast thou seen the mountain snow
Which south winds softly overblow,
How fast it wastes, how swiftly hastes
To feed the rock-rill's lonely flow,
And swell a sea of tears below?
So wastes, so weeps lone Etheline,
For she hath lost her Telmarine.
In evil hour, an awful power
Hath stol'n lord Konig's child;
And never since that dismal hour
Hath she, the maiden-mother, smil'd.
Seldom she sleeps,
But always weeps;
And when she sleeps, she dreams
That Telmarine, with joyful screams,
Returns, to sport upon her breast,
And laugh her into rest:
Starting, she wakes! illusion flies;
And back come dire realities.
Then, to the silent gloom she sighs,
And asks the silent gloom in vain,
" When will my child come back again? "