Her slight frame like the aspen shook,
And Reason half her throne forsook;
With terror pale-with sorrow drunk,
Reeling, upon the couch she sunk,

III.

'Tis past! LEON is in her room—
A stately youth in manhood's bloom,

With cloak of black and hood of blue,
And hair and eye of sablest hue;

And by his side a sabre gleaming,

And from his eye his high soul beaming,

Lighting his lofty olive brow

Paling with apprehension now—

"Be calm! sweet FLORENCE, do not fear; The wall is scaled, and I am here,"

He said, half drawing from its sheath
His blade, "thy champion until death;
Nor have I breath or time to waste-
Nay, prudence bids me be in haste;
A few words only can I say,

Which I could trust none to convey

Words far too pure-too sacred-dear,

For other ears than thine to hear

Wilt thou be mine?-forever mine?—

Speak, fairest; Angels hover near, From thy sweet lips love's pledge divine To waft unto a holier sphere.

Oh! is the smile in that bright eye,

That cheek's soft blush my bless'd reply ?—

Now I am happy! come what will,

Life hath for me nor storm nor ill.

IV.

I KNOW the grudge and lasting ire
Thy father bears my haughty sire;

The danger of a secret union

Ay, e'en if known, this brief communion; That if discovered, UGo's wrath

And hate will fatal prove to both:

But, dearest, this shall part us never— Death-only death-our fate shall sever!

To-morrow, e'en before the dawn
Awakes the lark upon the lawn,

My ship will sail for Sicily,

Where two months absent I must be,
Ere I return to Italy,

And, lovely FLORENCE, back to thee.

Twice thirty days just from this night,
Prepare thee for a speedy flight;
When bells proclaim the vesper hour,
Be near the Tiber, in the bower
Where, by the stars and pale moonlight,
Before we've met, on many a night;

And ready there my bark shall be,

To bear us swiftly o'er the sea

To some bright land afar to dwell—

Till then, sweet maiden, fare thee well."

"Must-must we part?"—the pallid maid Raised her dark eyes and trembling said, "Oh! I would rather die to-night,

Than thou should'st leave one hour my sight.

I fear the guilt-I feel the woe,

To love thee 'gainst my father's will;

He bids me swear it to forego

I swear, and doubly love thee still.

He bids me wrench thee from my heart,

But in that act would life depart.

With thee to live-with thee to die,'

Whether beneath our native sky,

Or in some wild, forsaken land

In cave, or isle, on desert strand,
Is all I wish, is all I hope,

Whate'er the ills with which we cope:-
Oh! must thou go? Will the dark sea,
Dear LEON! give thee back to me ?—
I know not why-I fear no more,
LEON, thou'lt 'see Italia's shore."

"O FLORENCE! fairest! speak not thus-
The grave alone can sever us;
My journey shall be brief, and then

I will not part from thee again,
Nor now in soul: as o'er his track
The Hadjee's spirit stealeth back
To worship still at Mecca's shrine,
Or faithful Jew's to Palestine ;
So, wandering o'er the dark blue sea,
My spirit will return to thee.

When thou art singing in the grove,

When thou dost tune thy harp to love,

Then hovering nigh my soul shall be,

To catch the heavenly melody;

When evening shade the green earth dims,

When slumber sweet enchains thy limbs,
It will be here to guard thy form,

And save thee, loveliest one, from harm."

He said, and as quick tears did start,

And overrun each silken lid,

He clasped her sobbing to his heart,

While down his cheeks the bright drops slid.

To hearts wrapt in such holy dream,

Ages could but a moment seem;

So lost to every thing around,

They might not hear the earthquake's sound. Around his neck her white arms wreathed

Save that at intervals they breathed,

As sympathy their bosoms heaved,—

One looking on would have believed

Them alabaster figures there,

Which Art had wrought with strictest care:

Love prompts him ever thus to stay,

Now Danger urges him away;

And from the hallowed spell he started,

As at the tread of armed men,

One long embrace-and then they parted

To meet-but never thus again.