 | Metrical essays |  |
118
A NIGHT SCENE.
“It is the hour when lovers' vows
Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.”
Byron.
Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.”
Byron.
I
Awake! awake, the night spirit calls,—Sweet floats her song through the forest halls;
Like the faint voice in a lover's dream—
Like the soft lute by the mountain stream—
Abbey and donjon fade on the sight,
Faintly and dim in the pale starlight;
Wake from thy slumber—fairest, awake—
We must sail far ere morning break.
119
II
The maid has stept forth in her deep disguise;And her lover bends o'er her with soul speaking eyes—
Now kisses the tears from her beautiful cheeks,
And in words of devotion and tenderness speaks;
Silent she looks on his eloquent face,
Blushing and trembling half meets his embrace;
Whilst, lamp'd by the lights of the summer sky,
Their bark o'er the blue waves sails rapidly.
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