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The Story
of Saville
And he laughed once more. “Ah sweet, my sweet! hath a nightingale lodged in thy breast,
That thou singest a strain more rapture-panged than ever a siren possessed?
Yes, I have achieved—but ah! what I meant—yet what are the claims of my art,
What joy had I won had I labored on like the emperor’s prize of thine heart,
That nest whence the doves fly gauzily forth and the air with sweet flutterings fill,—
My darling, my darling! Yes, God is above, and He loves me and sends me Saville!”
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