Near to Tantallon is a spring

Near to Tantallon is a spring,— St Baldred’s well The maidens tell, Where birds will dip their charmed wing, And more melodious sing. As the parch’d Arab sips the brook Devotedly, a draught I took, When all was shining as a dream, And round romantic forms did teem. Methought I saw a beauteous maid Steal softly from the greenwood shade, And, as she knelt her rosary counting, Thus spake the spirit of the fountain: