Then come in this hour, love!-when twilight has hung

Its shadowy mantle around,

And no sound, save the murmurs that breathe from thy

tongue,

Or thy footfall-scarce heard on the ground!—

Shall steal on the silence, to waken a fear,-
When the sun that is gone, with its heat,
Has left on the cheek of all nature a tear,-
Then, hearts that are broken should meet !

N

THE GONDOLA GLIDES.

THE gondola glides-
Like a spirit of night,-
O'er the slumbering tides,
In the calm moonlight!
The star of the north

Shows her golden eye,—
But a brighter looks forth

From yon lattice, on high!

Her taper is out,

And the silver beam

Floats the maiden about,

Like a beautiful dream!

And the beat of her heart

Makes her tremble all o'er,

And she lists, with a start,

To the dash of the oar!

But the moments are past,

And her fears are at rest,

And her lover, at last,

Holds her clasped to his breast ;

And the planet above

And the quiet blue sea

Are pledged to his love,

And his constancy!

Her cheek is reclined

On the home of his breast;

And reads-while he kneels

All his ardour to speak,

Her reply, as it steals,

In a blush, o'er her cheek!

Till-won by the prayers
Which so softly reprove,―
On his bosom, in tears,

She half murmurs her love;

And the stifled confession

Enraptured he sips,

'Mid the breathings of passion,

In dew, from her lips!