a legend of the south.
17
Enshrined within his heart of hearts
Each look of hers now lay—
A breath of summer o'er his soul,
Too soon to pass away.
Each look of hers now lay—
A breath of summer o'er his soul,
Too soon to pass away.
PART SECOND.
'Tis night, a night in Italy:
How to the mind it brings
Bright visions of that lovely land's
All high and glorious things!
How to the mind it brings
Bright visions of that lovely land's
All high and glorious things!
'Neath a myrtle and an orange grove,
On a bed of violets sweet,
Salt this gentle high-born maiden,
With the artist at her feet.
On a bed of violets sweet,
Salt this gentle high-born maiden,
With the artist at her feet.
The sunlight from the mountains
Had faded quite away,
And the misty shades of evening
Were gathering thick and gray,
Had faded quite away,
And the misty shades of evening
Were gathering thick and gray,
