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The small, earth-keeping birds were seen
Soaring deliriously high;

And through the clefts of newer green
Yon waters dash'd their living pearls ;

And with a gayer smile and bow
Troop'd on the merry village girls;
And from the Contadino's brow

The low-slouch'd hat was backward thrown,
With air that scarcely seem'd his own;

And Melanie, with lips apart,

And claspéd hands upon my arm,

Flung open her impassion'd heart,

And bless'd life's mere and breathing charm,

And sang old songs, and gather'd flowers,

And passionately bless'd once more life's thrilling hours.

In happiness and idleness

We wandered down yon sunny valeOh mocking eyes -a golden tress Floats back upon this summer gale!

A foot is tripping on the grass!

A laugh rings merry in mine ear!

I see a bounding shadow pass!

O God! my sister once was here! Come with me, friend!—We rested yon! There grew a flower she pluck'd and wore! She sat upon this mossy stone !—

That broken fountain running o'er
With the same ring, like silver bells.
She listen'd to its babbling flow,

And said, "Perhaps the gossip tells
Some fountain-nymph's love-story now!"

And as her laugh rang clear and wild,
A youth-a painter-passed and smiled.

He gave the greeting of the morn
With voice that lingered in mine ear.
I knew him sad and gentle born

By those two words so calm and clear.
His frame was slight, his forehead high
And swept by threads of raven hair,
The fire of thought was in his eye,

And he was pale and marble fair,

And Grecian chisel never caught

The soul in those slight features wrought.

I watch'd his graceful step of pride, Till hidden by yon leaning tree,

And lov'd him ere the echo died; And so, alas! did Melanie !

We sat and watch'd the fount awhile
In silence, but our thoughts were one;
And then arose, and with a smile

Of sympathy, we saunter'd on;

And she by sudden fits was gay,
And then her laughter died away,
And in this changefulness of mood,
Forgotten now those May-day spells,
We turn'd where Varro's villa stood
And gazing on the Cascatelles,

(Whose hurrying waters wild and white
Seem madden'd as they burst to light)

I chanced to turn my eyes away,
And lo! upon a bank alone,

The youthful painter, sleeping, lay!
His pencils on the grass were thrown,
And by his side a sketch was flung,

And near him as I lightly crept,

To see the picture as he slept, Upon his feet he lightly sprung; And gazing with a wild surprise Upon the face of Melanie,

He said and dropp'd his earnest eyes— "Forgive me! but I dream'd of thee!" His sketch, the while, was in my hand, And, for the lines I look'd to trace

A torrent by a palace spann'd, Half-classic and half fairy-landI only found my sister's face!

III.

Our life was changed. Another love
In its lone woof began to twine;
But ah! the golden thread was wove
Between my sister's heart and mine!
She who had liv'd for me before-

She who had smiled for me alone-
Would live and smile for me no more!
The echo to my heart was gone!

It seemed to me the very skies

Had shone through those averted eyes;

The air had breath'd of balm-the flower

Of radiant beauty seemed to be

But as she lov'd them, hour by hour,

And murmur'd of that love to me!

Oh, though it be so heavenly high

The selfishness of earth above,

That, of the watchers in the sky,

He sleeps who guards a brother's loveThough to a sister's present weal

The deep devotion far transcends

The utmost that the soul can feel

For even its own higher ends

Though next to God, and more than heaven For his own sake, he loves her, even

'Tis difficult to see another,

A passing stranger of a day

Who never hath been friend or brother,

Pluck with a look her heart away—
To see the fair, unsullied brow,

Ne'er kiss'd before without å prayer,
Upon a stranger's bosom now,

Who for the boon took little care

Who is enrich'd, he knows not why

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