For she who lov'd your ever-varied dyes,
Mingling her sweet tones with your symphonies,
Seeks higher bliss than charms like yours bestow—
A home unchangeable—an angel's wing—
Where is no fading flower, nor lute with jarring string.
xxxiii.
Another change. The captive's lot grew fair:
A soft illusion with her reveries blent,
New charms dispell'd her solitary care,
And hope's fresh dew-drops gleam'd where'er she went;
Earth seem'd to glow with Eden's purple light,
The fleeting days glanc'd by on pinions bright,
And every hour a rainbow lustre lent;
While, with his tones of music in her ear,
Love's eloquence inspir'd the high-born cavalier.
xxxiv.
Yet love to her pure breast was but a name
For kindling knowledge, and for taste refin'd,—
A guiding lamp, whose bright mysterious flame
Led on to loftier heights the aspiring mind.
Hence flow'd the idiom of a foreign tongue
All smoothly o'er her lip;—old history flung
Its annal wide, like banner on the wind,
And o'er the storied page, with rapture wild,
A new existence dawn'd on nature's fervent child.
