" Come, if thy magic Glass have power
" To call up forms we sigh to see;
" Show me my love, in that rosy bower,
" Where last she pledged her truth to me. "

The Wizard showed him his Lady bright,
Where lone and pale in her bower she lay;
" True-hearted maid, " said the happy Knight,
" She 's thinking of one, who is far away. "

But, lo! a page, with looks of joy,
Brings tidings to the Lady's ear;
" 'T is, " said the Knight, " the same bright boy,
" Who used to guide me to my dear. "
The Lady now, from her favorite tree,
Hath, smiling, plucked a rosy flower;
" Such, " he exclaimed, " was the gift that she
" Each morning sent me from that bower! "

She gives her page the blooming rose,
With looks that say, " Like lightning, fly! "
" Thus, " thought the Knight, " she soothes her woes,
" By fancying, still, her true-love nigh. "

But the page returns, and — oh, what a sight,
For trusting lover's eyes to see! —
Leads to that bower another Knight,
As young and, alas, as loved as he!

" Such, " quoth the Youth, " is Woman's love! "
Then, darting forth, with furious bound,
Dashed at the Mirror his iron glove,
And strewed it all in fragments round.

MORAL .

Such ills would never have come to pass,
Had he ne'er sought that fatal view;
The Wizard would still have kept his Glass,
And the Knight still thought his Lady true.