I.

'TELL ME, ZEPHYR.'

Tell me, Zephyr, swiftly winging, Ne'er before such fragrance bringing, From what rose-bed comest thou? 'Underneath a hawthorn creeping, I beheld a maiden, sleeping, And her breath I bear thee now!'

FOUR MAIDENS DRINKING.

Streamlet! at thy mossy brink Maidens four once stooped to drink: Crag and wild rock tumbling o'er, Wert thou e'er so blest before?