All this I pine to see, and would have seen, But that I am a woman, long ago." Thus in her wanderings did the maiden dream, Until, at length, one morn in early spring, When all the glistening fields lay white with frost, She came half breathless where her mother sat: "See, mother dear," she said, "what I have found, Upon our rivulet's bank; two slippers, white As the midwinter snow, and spangled o'er With twinkling points, like stars, and on the edge My name is wrought in silver; read, I pray, Sella, the name thy mother, now in heaven, Gave at my birth; and sure, they fit my feet!" "A dainty pair," the prudent matron said, "But thine they are not. We must lay them by For those whose careless hands have left them here; Or haply they were placed beside the brook To be a snare. I cannot see thy name Upon the border--only characters Of mystic look and dim are there, like signs Of some strange art; nay, daughter, wear them not." Then Sella hung the slippers in the porch Of that broad rustic lodge, and all who passed Admired their fair contexture, but none knew Who left them by the brook. And now, at length, May, with her flowers and singing birds, had gone, And on bright streams and into deep wells shone The high, midsummer sun. One day, at noon, Sella was missed from the accustomed meal. They sought her in her favorite haunts, they looked By the great rock and far along the stream, And shouted in the sounding woods her name. Night came, and forth the sorrowing household went With torches over the wide pasture-grounds, To pool and thicket, marsh and briery dell, And solitary valley far away. The morning came, and Sella was not found. The sun climbed high; they sought her still; the noon, The hot and silent noon, heard Sella's name, Uttered with a despairing cry, to wastes O'er which the eagle hovered. As the sun Stooped toward the amber west to bring the close Of that sad second day, and, with red eyes, The mother sat within her home alone, Sella was at her side. A shriek of joy Broke the sad silence; glad, warm tears were shed, And words of gladness uttered. "Oh, forgive," The maiden said, "that I could e'er forget Thy wishes for a moment. I just tried The slippers on, amazed to see them shaped So fairly to my feet, when, all at once, I felt my steps upborne and hurried on Almost as if with wings. A strange delight, Blent with a thrill of fear, o'ermastered me, And, ere I knew, my splashing steps were set Within the rivulet's pebbly bed, and I Was rushing down the current. By my side Tripped one as beautiful as ever looked From white clouds in a dream; and, as we ran, She talked with musical voice and sweetly laughed. Gayly we leaped the crag and swam the pool, And swept with dimpling eddies round the rock, And glided between shady meadow-banks. The streamlet, broadening as we went, became