The lark! the lark! thine own sweet lark. Pours forth his thrilling lay; And all that's cold, and all that's dark, Fly from the porch of day. Wake up! wake up! my own sweet love; Raise up those beaming eyes, To find an answering look above-- An image in the skies. There's music ready for thine ear, There's perfume on the breeze; Wake up and add to all that's dear, What's dearer than all these. Wake up! wake up! my own sweet love! Raise up those beaming eyes, To find an answering look above-- An image in the skies. According to the differences of our natures, there is for each man's heart a key, as it were, to be found in some one of the senses. With one man it is the grosser sense of the palate, and the things that he has tasted--the cup that he has drunk in particular lands and scenes, will, when again met with, carry back the mind to earlier days, and the feelings thereof, the affections, the hopes, the fears, will crowd upon him like phantoms from the grave, conjured up by objects that seem to have no apparent connexion with them. To some, again, certain sweet odours, the perfume of a flower, or the mingled sweetness of the morning's breath, will have the same effect. While to a few, the sight of some peculiar effect of light and shade, and to others a strain of music, a tone of voice, the carol of a bird, or the living hum of morning, will call up scenes long past, reawaken memories and affections that have slumbered for years, and give us back the gentleness of our youth. But when the chord of association is thus struck, let the sensations produced be joyful or melancholy, there is something in the first bursting forth of the past upon the present--there is something in the rapid drawing back of the dim curtain of years from between our actual feelings and the feelings long lost, too thrilling to be experienced without deep emotion; and our natural impulse is to melt in tears. The Earl stood and listened while Langford sang; and the deep mellow tone of his voice, the well-remembered air of Lulli--the words which, though he heard them not distinctly, he knew by heart--all served to unchain the long-fettered feelings of his better days; the stern heart was bent, the proud, impetuous, revengeful spirit was softened for the moment, and the old man's eyes glistened with unwonted dew. It lasted but for a moment. Habit and circumstance re-assumed their sway; and, with a slight stamp of the foot, he drew up his head, which had been bent down under the influence of manifold emotions, and entered the room in which the prisoner sat.