And gold, and men countless as forest leaves? All gone,-restored to earth! Great Rome herself, I Was, and is not! The eternal edict stands The power from God which comes not, drops and dies. Hark to that sound! yon ocean Eagle drives The storms are dying; and the night-bird pours, Return, my wandering thoughts! the ascending Moon Her glance solicits, many a stirring wood On from the pine-gulf to the gulf of clouds. Return, my thoughts! the innumerous cedar-cones Nor fall of Empires with as soft a sound, O'er famed Colonos stoop no more in trance, On legend-true or erring! Earth can yield Is ever irreproachable. Return: A long breath take of this ambrosial clime I have beheld Mont Blanc; in eminence, On Rome; have watched it from the Alban Hill; Byzantium I have seen: first capital That owned the Faith; whose rising up once more SCENE.-A small, neat room. In a high Voltaire chair sits a white-haired old gentleman. MONSIEUR VIEUXBOIS.-BABETTE, M. VIEUXBOIS (turning querulously). Day of my life! Where can she get? BABETTE (entering hurriedly). Coming, M'sieu'! If M'sieu' speaks So loud he won't be well for weeks! M. VIEUXBOIS. Where have you been? BABETTE. Why, M'sieu' knows: April!... Ville-d'Avray! . . . Ma'am'selle ROSE! M. VIEUXBOIS. Ah! I am old,—and I forget. Was the place growing green, Babette? BABETTE. But of a greenness !-yes, M'sieu'! (Lifting her apron to her eyes.) M. VIEUXBOIS. You're a good girl, BABETTE, but she, She was an Angel, verily. Sometimes I think I see her yet Stand smiling by the cabinet; And once, I know, she peeped and laughed Betwixt the curtains Where's the draught? (She gives him a cup.) Now I shall sleep, I think, BABETTE;— " She was an Angel". . . "Once she laughed " What, was I dreaming? Where's the draught? |