Who have the while in silent stillness sat,
Like one forlorn, that has no need of time.
Aur. In truth I now but little have to do
With time or any thing besides. It passes;
Hour follows hour; day follows day; and year,
If I so long shall last, will follow year:
Like drops that thro' the cavern'd hermit's roof
Some cold spring filters; glancing on his eye
At measured intervals, but moving not
His fix'd unvaried notice.
Ed. Nay, dearest Lady, be not so depress'd.
You have not ask'd me for my song to-day—
The song you prais'd so much. Shall I not sing it?
I do but wait your bidding.
Aur. I thank thy kindness; sing it if thou wilt.
(Sits down on a low seat, her head supported between both her hands, with her elbows resting on her knees.)
SONG.
Where distant billows meet the sky,
A pale, dull light the seamen spy,
As spent they stand and tempest-tost,
Their vessel struck, their rudder lost;
While distant homes where kinsmen weep,
And graves full many a fathom deep,
By turns their fitful, gloomy thoughts pourtray:
"'tis some delusion of the sight,
Some northern streamer's paly light."
"Fools!" saith rous'd Hope with gen'rous scorn,
"It is the blessed peep of morn,
And aid and safety come when comes the day."
