FRAGMENT X.
THE BOUDOIR.
To * * * * * * * * * *
“La, vers le fin du jour la simple verite
Honteux de paroitre nud
Pour cacher sa rougeur, cherche l'obscurité.
La, sa confidence legitime rapproche deux amis.
De Mouslier.
I
What need'st thou ask, or I reply?
Mere words are for the stupid many;
I've ever thought a speaking look
The sweetest eloquence of any!
II
Yes, thou may'st come, and at the hour
We consecrate to pensive pleasures,
When feeling, fancy, music, taste,
Profusely shed their dearest treasures.
III
Yet come not ere the sun's last beam
Sleeps on the west wave's purpled breast,
Nor wait thee till the full-orb'd moon
Resplendent lifts her silver crest.
IV
But steal the softer hour between,
When Twilight drops her mystic veil,
And brings the anxious mind's repose,
And leaves the sensient heart to feel.
V
Yet turn not towards the flaunting bow'r
That echoes to the joyless laugh
Of gossip dames, nor seek the hall
Where Riot's sons her goblet quaff.
VI
But with a stilly noiseless step
Glide to the well known fairy room,
Where fond affection visits oft,
And never finds the heart from home.
VII
Fear not to meet intruders there,
Thou'lt only find my harp and me,
Breathing perhaps some pensive song,
And waiting anxiously for thee.
VIII
And I will wear the vestal robe
Thou lov'st, I know, to see me wear;
And with that sweet wreath form'd by thee
(Though faded now) I'll bind my hair.
IX
And round my harp fresh buds I'll twine,
O'er which departing day has wept;
As wildly soft its chords I'll touch
As though a sigh its chords had swept.
X
And I will hum the song thou lov'st,
Or thou each bosom-chord shalt thrill
With thine own soul-dissolving strain,
Or silent, we'll be happier still.
XI
Well now, thou know'st the time, the place,
And—but I merely meant to tell thee
That thou might'st come! yet still I write
As though some witchcraft charm befel me.
