(Thomas Moore)

From Irish Melodies. 103. The Mountain Spite

IN yonder valley there dwelt, alone,
A youth, whose moments had calmly flown,
Till spells came oer him, and, day and night,
He was haunted and watchd by a Mountain Sprite.

As once, by moonlight, he wanderd oer
The golden sands of that Island shore,
A foot-print sparkled before his sight 
Twas the fairy foot of the Mountain Sprite!

Beside a fountain, one sunny day,
As bending over the stream he lay,
There peepd down oer him two eyes of light,
And he saw in that mirror the Mountain Sprite.

He turnd, but, lo, like a startled bird,
That spirit fled!  and the youth but heard
Sweet music, such as marks the flight
Of some bird of song, from the Mountain Sprite.

One night, still haunted by that bright look,
The boy, bewilderd, his pencil took.
And, guided only by memorys light,
Drew the once-seen form of the Mountain Sprite.

"Oh thou, who lovest the shadow," cried
A voice, low whispering by his side,
"Now turn and see,"  here the youths delight
Seald the rosy lips of the Mountain Sprite.

"Of all the Spirits of land and sea,"
Then rapt he murmurd, "theres none like thee,
And oft, oh oft, may thy foot thus light
In this lonely bower, sweet Mountain Sprite!"

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