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291

AXEL.

The fount's clear depths of silvery blue.
Why fleest thou then ? And doth that vow
Bind thee my heart to break ? And how —
But ah ! in space my murmurs die !
A widow among graves I sigh,
A dove, that heaven and earth doth fill
With her complaints unanswered still !
Ah ! forests sigh and billows flow
Between us, and he hears me not.
What if I follow ! But, oh no !
That for a woman ill were thought.
A woman ! Who shall know ? I'll wear
A sword, and lo ! the man is there !
With peril have I often played,
For life and death a die-cast made ;
As grown to courser, bold I ride,
My bullet ne'er hath' swerved aside.
Some angel prompteth this design —
Now Axel, Axel ! thou art mine !
I'll seek thee in the distant North,