From yonder bubbling spring, for little elves
Float in the liquid diamond, singing strains
Of love, and hope, and joy. Oh, the broad day
Hath none of these delights; sweet Fancy shrinks
From the betraying sun, and chooses night
To smile upon her witchery.
Isabel.
'Tis fair,
'Tis wondrous beautiful; but did the night
Come clothed in all its terrors, it must bring
Joy to thine Isabel, my Julian; we
By stern necessity divorced by day,
Breathe and exist but in the twilight hour.
Julian.
My wild idolatry could wish that night
Should reign for ever, and these fairy bowers
Form all our universe. Amid the crush
Of dark tumultuous passions, which the soul
Must combat in its worldly intercourse,
I sigh and languish for the tranquil hour,
