The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 405, December 19, 1829

No cloister shalt thou see,
Far less of that bad cruel man
The daughter ever be.

I can, I will deliver thee,
I have resolved it too,
To yield thee to thy youngling's arms.
As I am a Stolberg true!"

"Thou? Stolberg? O my grief is gone!
Mine angel led thee, sure;
Thou art the dear, dear youth for whom
These sorrows I endure.

Now say I free and openly,
What then my looks confest,
When I, my love, thy earliest lance
With oaken garland drest."

"O God! thou? my beloved child,
Eliza Mansfield Dove,
I loved thee, too, with the first look,
As none did ever love.

See on my lance the garland yet,
It ever carries there;
O could'st thou see thy image too,
Imprinted deeply here!

And now, why loiter we? Ere shine
The sun, I'll bring thee home,
And nothing more shall our chaste loves
Divide, whatever come."

"With all my soul I love thee, youth,
Yet still my virgin shame
Struggles against thy rash design,
And trembles for my fame."

"We'll seek my sister first, and there
Our wedding shall precede.
And then into my castle I
My noble bride will lead.—

Eliza' let us hasten, come—
It is the mid of night,
The moon will soon conclude her course,
That shineth now so bright."

Now softly by a secret way
The lady lightly trod.
Till she beneath the window—pale
As deadly marble, stood.

Yet soon she felt her heart again,
And sprung unto her knight,
Who press'd her speechless to his heart
That throbb'd with chaste delight.

Then lifts her gladly on his steed,
And her before sits he;
She winds about him her white arms,
Forth go they, valiantly.

Now, wakened by the prancing steed.
And that true griffin's neigh,
The damsel from the window spied
Her lady borne away.

She wildly shrieks, and plains to all
Of her calamity:
The old man foams, and cursing, swears
His niece in shame shall die.

He summon'd all his people up,
And ere the day began,
They left the castle ready armed,
Led by that wicked man.

Meanwhile, cheered by the friendly moon,
Through common, field, and mead,
Far over hill, and vale, and wood,
That knightly pair proceed.

What torrent now with dashing foam
Roars loud before them so
"Fear not, my love," the Stolberg said,
"This stream full well I know."

The gallant roan makes head, his feet
Approve the flood with care,
Then dashes, neighing, through, as if
A tiny brook it were.

Now come they to the castle wet,
Yet wrapt in heavenly bliss;
Let them describe who such have felt,
The intensity of this.

Now, sate they at the early meal;