Their tender eyes exchange caresses.

So gentle is the night of May, So much the lovers have to say, They never heed the flight of time; And it is far towards the hour When sounds the matin chime, Ere from their sheltering forest bower, And bank with early flowers bestrewn, They rise, and think they rise too soon,

And see the modest eastern sky Blushing because the morn draws nigh, And hear the woods and welkin ringing With the sweet song the lark is singing.

XII.

'Oh, light the touch of time has been, And flowers his hand has carried, Or thus all night in forests green Our feet would not have tarried. We have outwatch'd the moon, my love, And all the stars but one; There is no need that we should part For rising of the sun. The air so full of odours sweet, The breeze-encircled hill, The music of the early birds, And thy sweet looks and sweeter words,

Invite to linger still.'

The maid look'd up into his face With eyes, he thought, that dimm'd the day,

And the reply upon her lips
Melted in happy smiles away.

XIII.

But who is this of stalwart frame,
Who paces slow the forest shade;
His looks on Gilbert turning now,

And now upon the maid?
Her brother Porphyr ;-bending down,
Undarken'd by his usual frown,
His lips upon her brow he presses,
And thus the loving pair addresses:

XIV.

'Happy the lot of those who cannot see

Down the dark vistas of futurity; But happier far who never seek to know What God in mercy veils from men below!

And, oh, most sad, most miserable lot, To know the future though we wish it not!

Yes, Peace and Love might build a nest

For us amid these vales serene, And Truth should be our constant guest Amid these pleasant wild-woods green.

My heart should never nurse again The once fond dreams of young Ambition;

And Glory's light should lure in vain,

At last she lifts her drooping head, And, with her delicate finger, dashes

The tear away, that like a pearl Hung on her soft eyes' silken lashes; Then hand in hand they take their way O'er the green meadows gemm'd with dew,

And up the hill, and through the wood, And by the streamlet bright and blue,

And sit them down upon a stone, With mantling mosses overgrown, That stands beside her cottage door, And oft repeat, When next they meet,

Another light should round me shine, Beloved, from those eyes of thine!'

XXII.

'Ah, Gilbert! happy should I be This hour to die, lest fate reveal That life can never give a joy Such as the joy that now I feel. Happy? ah, no! I would not die, Though sure of immortality,

VI.

'I'll drink to Rosaline,' said he ;
"Of all these lands the pride;
And happy may our bridal be,

And happier the bride!'

In vain! in vain! His soul was sad; He knew his reasoning was bad, He knew that he was self-debased; And though the past might be retraced, He lack'd the courage to obey, And strove to drink remorse away. 'Well done, well done, my gallant son!' His smiling sire replied,

'For he who weddeth her receives Ten thousand acres yielding wine, Ten thousand feeding sheep and beeves, Ten thousand rich with corn and rye; And thou, my son, shalt make her thine, And I will bless thee ere I die!'

VII.

Long past the midnight sat the guests, With bacchanalian songs and jests, Till through the oriel windows bright The morning shone with crimson light: And still the father bless'd his son, And thought upon his acres won; And still they pour'd the ripe-red wine To Gilbert and to Rosaline.

VIII.

And Amethysta, where was she?
At her lone window, silent sitting,
Her eyes now turn'd upon the sky,
To watch the light clouds moonwards
flitting;

Now turn'd upon the vale beneath;
Now to the forest's leafy cover;
Now to the hill-path to her door,
To watch the coming of her lover.

IX.

'Why stays he thus, O sister sweet? What can delay his tardy feet? Long since, were he a lover meet For maid so tender and sincere, The truant would have wander'd here.'

X.

'I can but weep; yet know not why, For still the tears unbidden run: Ah, surely Joy should follow Love, As sunshine follows from the sun!