They will pass like the dream of our pleasures and youth; They will pass like the promise of honor and truth; And bright thou shalt shine, when these shadows are gone, All radiant—serene—unobscur’d; but alone. “And did he pass me so coldly by? And did he not once look on me?” she said. “But I will not weep: he shall not break my spirit and heart. Let him do so to the tame doves for whom he has forsaken me. Let such as Alice and Calantha die for his love: I will not.”—She took her harp: her voice was tired and feeble. She faintly murmured the feelings of her troubled soul. It sounded like the wind, as it whispered through the trees, or the mournful echo of some far distant flute. SONG. And can’st thou bid my heart forget What once it lov’d so well; That look—that smile, when first we met; That last—that sad farewell? Ah! no: by ev’ry pang I’ve prov’d, By ev’ry fond regret, I feel, though I no more am lov’d, I never—can forget. I wish’d to see that face again, Although ’twere chang’d to me: I thought it not such madd’ning pain As ne’er to look on thee. But, oh! ’twas torture to my breast, To meet thine alter’d eye, To see thee smile on all the rest, Yet coldly pass me by. Even now, when ev’ry hope is o’er To which I.... “Are these poetical effusions ended?” said a soft voice from behind.—She started; and turning round, beheld the figure of a man enveloped in a dark military cloak, waiting for her upon the cliff.—“What a night it is! not a wave on the calm sea: not a cloud in the Heavens. See how the mountain is tinged with the bright moonshine. Are you not chilled—are you not weary; wandering thus alone?” “I am prepared to follow you,” said Elinor, “though not as a mistress, yet as a slave.” “I do not love you,” said the man, approaching her. “Oh, even if you were to hang about and kneel to me as once, I cannot love you! Yet it once was pleasant to be so loved; was it not?” “I think not of it now,” said Elinor, while a proud blush burned on her cheek. “This is no time for retrospection.” “Let us hasten forwards, by the light of the moon: I perceive that we are late.—Have you forgiven me?” “There are injuries, Glenarvon, too great to be forgiven: speak not of the past: let us journey on.” The lashing of the waves against the rocks, alone disturbed the silence of this scene. They walked in haste by each others side, till they passed Craig Allen Point, and turned into the mouth of a deep cavern. Whispers were then heard from every side—the confusion of strange voices, the jargon of a foreign dialect, the yells and cries of the mutineers and discontented. “Strike a light,” said Elinor’s companion, in a commanding tone, as he advanced to the mouth of the rock.—In a moment, a thousand torches blazed around, whilst shouts of joy proclaimed a welcome to the visitor, who was accosted with every mark of the most obsequious devotion.