THE LOVER.

Scene I.—­A wooded mountain in bloom—­time
Sunrise—­enter lover solus.

This is my fair resort, the Summer Sun
Is rising there, the ocean gleams like gold,
On which his rolling chariot burns like fire. 
Ten thousand birds are up in branch and air,
To hail this coronation, every day
Repeated from the first to last of time. 
It is a glorious sight, and worthy all
That has been said or sung of it in verse. 
But yet ’tis dim to me, Odora’s eyes
Have cast that glory in a dull eclipse,
Oh! sweet Odora!  I am mad with love
Of thy sweet eyes.  Would they might rain their rays
Upon me, as yon orb, rains rays on earth. 
Oh, sweetest eyes of love! they set on fire
My tinder heart.  Odora! come to me! 
Upon this mountain’s green and glittering brow,
Where now I stand and gaze down earth and main,
O’er which that God’s all gladdening glory soars. 
Come, sweet Odora! thine eyes outshine that God. 
Thy speech’s music so transcends these birds,
They’ll pine for grief and die.  Oh sweet, come, come.

Enter Odora in the dress of A woodnymph.

Transcendant vision!  Even now I thought of thee,
My mind, o’erheated, called—­and thou art here. 
What blissful fate hath brought thee?  Dost thou roam
The scented hills at morn, to gather flowers;
To gaze into the fountain’s glassy mirror,
Or list the sweet birds sigh on every bough,
Thou art a woodnymph, speaks thy fair attire. 
Sweet fancy of a sweeter maidenhood,
That thou dost walk at dawn a woodnymph wild. 
Here will I seal upon thy foam-white brow
My flame again, which burns like yonder orb. 
Odora! speak to me! thy voice is sweet,
As sounds of rescue to a ship-wrecked soul.

SCENE II.—­LOVER IN A GORGEOUS SALOON IN A GREAT CITY—­EVENING—­ENTER ODORA—­LOVER SPEAKS.

Again I meet my love.  ’Tis wondrous bliss,
That such a Moon shines on my spirit’s night. 
Like yonder moon, at times, she disappears;—­
But still the virtue of her visit stays,
Till she returns, with moon-like certainty. 
Come, my Odora come! sing,

Odora sings.

    When winds are cold, and winter strips,
        The Oak and ghostly Pine;
    And fastens every streamlet’s lips,
        And cold icicles shine: 
    Still fair amid the scene so bleak,
        The daisy flower is seen;
    So truest love will comfort speak,
        And make life’s winter green.

That strain would charm an adder even to tears,
So sweet a song, from mouth so full of grace. 
Before I saw thee, my Odora! ne’er
I thought this world could ever grow so fair
To me.  Love throws a rosy, sparkling tissue
On mountain, hill, lake, tree, shrub, leaf and flower,
Love sweetens every note of nature seven fold. 
But sing again.  Thy voice is like a harp.