Fresh-water springs come up through

bitter brine.

'Twere joy, not fear, claspt hand-in-hand with thee,

To wait for death-mute - careless of all ills,

Apart upon a mountain, tho' the surge
Of some new deluge from a thousand hills
Flung leagues of roaring foam into the
gorge

Below us, as far on as eye could see.

XI.

THE BRIDESMAID.

O BRIDESMAID, ere the happy knot was tied,

Thine eyes so wept that they could hardly

see;

Thy sister smiled and said, 'No tears for me!

A happy bridesmaid makes a happy bride.'

And then, the couple standing side by side,

Love lighted down between them full of glee,

And over his left shoulder laugh'd at thee,

'O happy bridesmaid, make a happy bride.'

And all at once a pleasant truth I learn'd, For while the tender service made thee