The glance of the new-blown rose is bright As the gleaming of stars on a summer's night, Like a bride for the altar the garden arraying, And love in a thousand flowerets playing. Yet brighter, and fairer, and lovelier far Is the pale little lamplet's trembling star Which yonder my love in her chamber shews As she lingers at night, to her couch ere she goes. Her delicate tresses I watch her unbind, From around her fair temples the rose-wreath unwind; Her exquisite form to my rapturous gaze With each motion the tightening nightdress betrays. And oh, when the lute in her fingers she takes, And stirr'd at her bidding sweet music awakes, With a thrill at her exquisite touch, from the strings The spirit of melody laughingly springs. She sends out a song to recall him again, The wandering rogue--but she sends it in vain; For he flies to my heart with a shout of loud laughter For shelter; and there the pursuer flies after. Oh, out with thee, mischievous villains, away! But together they bar themselves in as they say, "Till this shall be broken we budge not from here, And the Love-god we'll teach thee to know and to fear." Emilius stood up impatiently. It was now dark, and Roderick was not come; he was craving to tell him of his love for an unknown beauty who lived opposite to them, and kept him all day watching at the window, and all night waking in his bed. A sound of footsteps on the stairs. The door opened without any one knocking, and in came two gay-looking figures with very ugly masks on their faces; one dressed as a Turk, in a long gown of blue and red; the other as a Spaniard, in a doublet of red and light yellow, and a plume of feathers in his cap. Emilius was getting impatient, when the Turk took off his mask, and shewed the well-known, broad, merry face of Roderick. "My dear fellow," he said, "what a dismal-looking face! that is not the way to look at carnival-times. I and my young officer friend here are come to carry you off. There is a great ball to-night at the saloon. I know you have sworn never to go about in any other dress than this dingy old every-day black; but come along as you are--it is late." "As usual," replied Emilius very angrily. "You have forgotten our agreement it seems.--I am exceedingly sorry," he added, turning to the stranger, "that it is not in my power to accompany you. My friend is too hasty in making engagements for me. I cannot possibly leave the house, as I have subjects of importance to talk over with him." The stranger, who understood Emilius's manner, and felt his visit was ill-timed, took his leave immediately. Roderick, however, who took it all with the greatest coolness, put on his mask again and stood up before the mirror. "What an object it makes of me!" he said; "it is a miserable, tasteless device after all: don't you think so?"