Elvira, whose inquietude respecting her Daughter was a great obstacle to her perfect reestablishment, was still labouring under the effects of her late severe illness. She was this Evening more than usually indisposed, and retired to bed before her accustomed hour. Antonia withdrew from her Mother’s chamber with regret, and till the Door closed, kept her eyes fixed upon her with melancholy expression. She retired to her own apartment; Her heart was filled with bitterness: It seemed to her that all her prospects were blasted, and the world contained nothing for which it was worth existing. She sank into a Chair, reclined her head upon her arm, and gazed upon the floor with a vacant stare, while the most gloomy images floated before her fancy. She was still in this state of insensibility when She was disturbed by hearing a strain of soft Music breathed beneath her window. She rose, drew near the Casement, and opened it to hear it more distinctly. Having thrown her veil over her face, She ventured to look out. By the light of the Moon She perceived several Men below with Guitars and Lutes in their hands; and at a little distance from them stood Another wrapped in his cloak, whose stature and appearance bore a strong resemblance to Lorenzo’s. She was not deceived in this conjecture. It was indeed Lorenzo himself, who bound by his word not to present himself to Antonia without his Uncle’s consent, endeavoured by occasional Serenades, to convince his Mistress that his attachment still existed. His stratagem had not the desired effect. Antonia was far from supposing that this nightly music was intended as a compliment to her: She was too modest to think herself worthy such attentions; and concluding them to be addressed to some neighbouring Lady, She grieved to find that they were offered by Lorenzo. The air which was played, was plaintive and melodious. It accorded with the state of Antonia’s mind, and She listened with pleasure. After a symphony of some length, it was succeeded by the sound of voices, and Antonia distinguished the following words. SERENADE Chorus Oh! Breathe in gentle strain, my Lyre! ’Tis here that Beauty loves to rest: Describe the pangs of fond desire, Which rend a faithful Lover’s breast. Song In every heart to find a Slave, In every Soul to fix his reign, In bonds to lead the wise and brave, And make the Captives kiss his chain, Such is the power of Love, and Oh! I grieve so well Love’s power to know. In sighs to pass the live-long day, To taste a short and broken sleep, For one dear Object far away, All others scorned, to watch and weep, Such are the pains of Love, and Oh! I grieve so well Love’s pains to know! To read consent in virgin eyes, To press the lip ne’er prest till then To hear the sigh of transport rise, And kiss, and kiss, and kiss again, Such are thy pleasures, Love, But Oh! When shall my heart thy pleasures know? Chorus