I.

FOR Summer followeth with its store of joy; 
That, too, can bring thee only new delight; 
Its sultry hours can work thee no annoy, 
Veiled from thy head shall be its glowing might. 
Sweet fruits shall tempt thy thirsty appetite; 
Thy languid limbs on cushioned down shall sink; 
Or rest on fern-grown tufts, by streamlets bright, 
Where the large-throated deer come down to drink, 
And cluster gently round the cool refreshing brink. 
II.

There, as the flakèd light, with changeful ray 
(From where the unseen glory hotly glows) 
Through the green branches maketh pleasant way, 
And on the turf a chequered radiance throws, 
Thou'lt lean, and watch those kingly-antlered brows-- 
The lustrous beauty of their glances shy, 
As following still the pace their leader goes, 
(Who seems afraid to halt--ashamed to fly,) 
Rapid, yet stately too, the lovely herd troop by. 
III.

This is the time of shadow and of flowers, 
When roads gleam white for many a winding mile; 
When gentle breezes fan the lazy hours, 
And balmy rest o'erpays the time of toil; 
When purple hues and shifting beams beguile 
The tedious sameness of the heath-grown moor; 
When the old grandsire sees with placid smile 
The sunburnt children frolic round his door, 
And trellised roses deck the cottage of the poor. 
IV.

The time of pleasant evenings! when the moon 
Riseth companioned by a single star, 
And rivals e'en the brilliant summer noon 
In the clear radiance which she pours afar; 
No stormy winds her hour of peace to mar, 
Or stir the fleecy clouds which melt away 
Beneath the wheels of her illumined car; 
While many a river trembles in her ray, 
And silver gleam the sands round many an ocean bay! 
V.

Oh, then the heart lies hushed, afraid to beat, 
In the deep absence of all other sound; 
And home is sought with loth and lingering feet, 
As though that shining tract of fairy ground, 
Once left and lost, might never more be found! 
And happy seems the life that gipsies lead, 
Who make their rest where mossy banks abound, 
In nooks where unplucked wild-flowers shed their seed; 
A canvass-spreading tent the only roof they need! 
VI.

Wild Nomades of our civilised calm land! 
Whose Eastern origin is still betrayed 
By the swart beauty of the slender hand,-- 
Eyes flashing forth from over-arching shade,-- 
And supple limbs, for active movement made; 
How oft, beguiled by you, the maiden looks 
For love her fancy ne'er before pourtrayed, 
And, slighting village swains and shepherd-crooks, 
Dreams of proud youths, dark spells, and wondrous magic books! 
VII.

Lo! in the confines of a dungeon cell, 
(Sore weary of its silence and its gloom!) 
One of this race: who yet deserveth well 
The close imprisonment which is her doom: 
Lawless she was, ere infancy's first bloom 
Left the round outline of her sunny cheek; 
Vagrant, and prowling Thief;--no chance, no room 
To bring that wild heart to obedience meek; 
Therefore th' avenging law its punishment must wreak. 
VIII.

She lies, crouched up upon her pallet bed, 
Her slight limbs starting in unquiet sleep; 
And oft she turns her feverish, restless head, 
Moans, frets, and murmurs, or begins to weep: 
Anon, a calmer hour of slumber deep 
Sinks on her lids; some happier thought hath come; 
Some jubilee unknown she thinks to keep, 
With liberated steps, that wander home 
Once more with gipsy tribes a gipsy life to roam. 
IX.

But no, her pale lips quiver as they moan: 
What whisper they? A name, and nothing more: 
But with such passionate tenderness of tone, 
As shews how much those lips that name adore. 
She dreams of one who shall her loss deplore 
With the unbridled anguish of despair! 
Whose forest-wanderings by her side are o'er, 
But to whose heart one braid of her black hair 
Were worth the world's best throne, and all its treasures rare. 
X.

The shadow of his eyes is on her soul-- 
His passionate eyes, that held her in such love! 
Which love she answered, scorning all control 
Of reasoning thoughts, which tranquil bosoms move. 
No lengthened courtship it was his to prove, 
(Gleaning capricious smiles by fits and starts) 
Nor feared her simple faith lest he should rove: 
Rapid and subtle as the flame that darts 
To meet its fellow flame, shot passion through their hearts. 
XI.

And though no holy priest that union blessed, 
By gipsy laws and customs made his bride; 
The love her looks avowed, in words confessed, 
She shared his tent, she wandered by his side, 
His glance her morning star, his will her guide. 
Animal beauty and intelligence 
Were her sole gifts,--his heart they satisfied,-- 
Himself could claim no higher, better sense, 
So loved