_Maria._ There are woes Ill-barter'd for the garishness of joy! If it be wretched with an untired eye 20 To watch those skiey tints, and this green ocean; Or in the sultry hour beneath some rock, My hair dishevell'd by the pleasant sea-breeze, To shape sweet visions, and live o'er again All past hours of delight; if it be wretched 25 To watch some bark, and fancy Albert there; To go through each minutest circumstance Of the bless'd meeting, and to frame adventures Most terrible and strange, and hear _him_ tell them: (As once I knew a crazy Moorish maid, 30 Who dress'd her in her buried lover's cloaths, And o'er the smooth spring in the mountain cleft Hung with her lute, and play'd the selfsame tune He used to play, and listen'd to the shadow Herself had made); if this be wretchedness, 35 And if indeed it be a wretched thing To trick out mine own death-bed, and imagine That I had died--died, just ere his return; Then see him listening to my constancy; And hover round, as he at midnight ever 40 Sits on my grave and gazes at the moon; Or haply in some more fantastic mood To be in Paradise, and with choice flowers Build up a bower where he and I might dwell, And there to wait his coming! O my sire! 45 My Albert's sire! if this be wretchedness That eats away the life, what were it, think you, If in a most assur'd reality He should return, and see a brother's infant Smile at him from _my_ arms? [_Clasping her forehead._ O what a thought! 50 'Twas horrible! it pass'd my brain like lightning. _Velez._ 'Twere horrible, if but one doubt remain'd The very week he promised his return. _Maria._ Ah, what a busy joy was ours--to see him After his three years' travels! tho' that absence 55 His still-expected, never-failing letters Almost endear'd to me! Even then what tumult! _Velez._ O power of youth to feed on pleasant thoughts Spite of conviction! I am old and heartless! Yes, I am old--I have no pleasant dreams-- 60 Hectic and unrefresh'd with rest. _Maria (with great tenderness)._ My father! _Velez._ Aye, 'twas the morning thou didst try to cheer me With a fond gaiety. My heart was bursting, And yet I could not tell me, how my sleep Was throng'd with swarthy faces, and I saw 65 The merchant-ship in which my son was captured-- Well, well, enough--captured in sight of land-- We might almost have seen it from our house-top! _Maria (abruptly)._ He did not perish there!