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She to-day at dawn of morningPraying comes to Ganges' waters,Bends her o'er the glassy surface--Sudden, in the waves reflected,Flying swiftly far above her,From the highest heavens descending,She discerns the beauteous formOf a youth divine, createdBy the God's primeval wisdomIn his own eternal breast.

Ah, o'er ev'ry plant they rush!Ah, their cruel footsteps crushAll the flowers that fill their path!Who will dare to stem their wrath?

[To the memory of an excellent and beautiful girl of 17,belonging to the village of Brienen, who perished on the 13th ofJanuary, 1809, whilst giving help on the occasion of the breakingup of the ice on the Rhine, and the bursting of the dam ofCleverham.]