HIS DEPARTED LOVE TO PRINCE

LEOPOLD.

SET TO MUSIC BY VINCENT NOVELLO.

A female voice is heard, issuing forth softly and tenderly.

My widowed Love!

Recitative of another voice, a man's.

Hark, princely mourner! 'tis the voice of her

You loved on earth, that with her favourite strings Comes mingling thus, like smiling dreams that stir The lips of day-sweet Patience. Hark! She sings!

The voice returns.

Look up, look up, and

weep

not so,

My Leopold! My love!

F

Thou touchest me with such a woe,

As should not be above.

Pray be, as thou wast all along,
Affectionate and sweet, but strong.

I know, dear love, thou canst not see The face that looks on thine;

Thou canst not touch or come to me,
But all this power is mine;

And I can touch that bosom still;
And now I do so, by that thrill!

The night I passed thee from my clay, And kissed thy brow's despair,

I met upon my moonlight way

A hundred spirits fair,

A hundred brides, who all, like me,

Died in that first sweet agony.

And we inhabit wondrous bowers,

Which though they cannot fade,

Have sympathy with the sweet powers
Of those our smiles obeyed;

For as on earth ye spread delight,

The leaves are thick and flowers grow bright.

Then turn thee to thy wonted will,

Dry thine and others' tears;

And we will build our palace still,
With tops above the spheres;

And when thou too art fancied dead,

There, there shall be our bridal bed.

EPISTLES.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

LORD BYRON,

ON HIS DEPARTURE FOR ITALY AND GREECE.

Dio ti dia, baron, ventura.-PULCI.

SINCE you resolve, dear Byron, once again
To taste the far-eyed freedom of the main,
And as the coolness lessens in the breeze,

Strike for warm shores that bathe in classic seas,—
May all that hastens, pleases, and secures,

Fair winds and skies, and a swift ship, be yours,