The Aziola: A Poem

418 IMPROVEMENT ERA.

few weeks before her death, with a fearful accuracy. Be it as it may, they cost her her life, as she never recovered from the effects of the terror, and pined and wasted away to the hour of her death, which followed in about two months after the fearful occurrence. For my part, I firmly believe all she told us; and though my father, who came home the spring following, used to say it was all a dream or the effects of imagination, I always saw too many concurrent circumstances attending it to permit me to think so.

THE AZIOLA.

"Do you not hear the Aziola cry? Methinks she must be nigh." Said Mary, as we sate In dusk, ere stars were lit or candles brought; And I, who thought This Aziola was some tedious woman, Ask'd, "Who is Aziola?"— How elate I felt to know it was nothing human,

No mockery of myself or fear, or hate: And Mary saw my soul, And laugh'd, and said, "Disquiet yourself not; 'Tis nothing but a little downy owl."

Sad Aziola! many an eventide Thy music I had heard By wood and stream, meadow and mountain side. And fields and marshes wide Such as nor voice, nor lute, nor wind, nor bird The soul ever stirred; Unlike^and far sweeter than them all. Sad Aziola! from that moment I Loved thee, and thy sad cry. Shelley.