With that he raised his dewy, azure eyes,
      And from his lips words of soft music broke;
    But still the truant tears would crowding rise,
      And snowy bosom heave before he spoke. 
    “Oh, come and weep with me,” he cried, “fair maid
      Weep that the gentle reign of Love is o’er;
    Come, venture nearer—­cease to be afraid,
      For I have hearts and worshippers no more.

    “In vain I give to woman’s lovely form
      All that can rapture on the heart bestow;
    The fairest form no dastard heart can warm
      While gold has greater power than Love below. 
    In vain I breathe a freshness on her cheek;
      In vain the Graces round her footsteps move,
    And eyes of melting beauty softly speak
      The soul-born, silent eloquence of Love.

    “It was not thus,” the urchin, sighing, said,
      “When hope and gladness crowned the new-born earth. 
    In Eden’s bowers, beneath a myrtle’s shade,
      Before man was, Love sprang to birth. 
    While Heaven around me balmy fragrance shed,
      With rosy chains the infant year I bound;
    And as my bride young Nature blushing led
      In vestal beauty o’er the verdant ground.

    “The first fond sigh that young Love stole
      Was wafted o’er those fields of air,
    To kindle light in man’s stern soul,
      And render Heaven’s best work more fair. 
    Creation felt that tender sigh,
      And earth received Love’s rapturous tears,
    Their beauty beamed in woman’s eye,
      And music broke on human ears.

    “Whether I moved upon the rolling seas,
      Or sank on Nature’s flowery lap to rest,
    Or raised my light wings on the sportive breeze,
      The conscious earth with joy her god confess’d. 
    While Mirth and Gladness round my footsteps play’d,
      And bright-haired Hope led on the laughing Hours. 
    As man and beast in holy union stray’d
      To share the lucid streams and virgin flowers.

    “Ah, useless then yon shafts and broken bow
      Till man abused the balm in mercy given;
    Whilst gold has greater charms than Love below,
      I flee from earth to find a home in heaven!”
    A sudden glory round his figure spread,
      It rose upon the sun’s departing beam;
    With the sad vision sleep together fled: 
      Starting, I woke—­and found it all a dream!

“When I try to compose music for love songs,” said Clary, suddenly turning to Anthony, whom she found buried in profound thought, “I never succeed.  If you understood this glorious science of music, and could make the harp echo the inborn melodies that float through the mind, you would not fail to give them the proper effect.”

“Why do you think that I should be more fortunate than your sweet self, Clary?”