The Marquis followed her: Why thus obstinately persist in refusing to be happy? said he: recollect the proposal I have made you, and accept it while it is yet in your power. To-morrow a priest shall join our hands--Surely, being, as you are, in my power, it must be your interest to consent to this? Adeline could answer only by tears; she despaired of softening his heart to pity, and feared to exasperate his pride by disdain. He now led her, and she suffered him, to a seat near the banquet, at which he pressed her to partake of a variety of confectionaries, particularly of some liqueurs of which he himself drank freely: Adeline accepted only of a peach. And now the Marquis, who interrupted her silence into a secret compliance with his proposal, resumed all his gaiety and spirit, while the long and ardent regards he bestowed on Adeline overcame her with confusion and indignation. In the midst of the banquet, soft music again sounded the most tender and impassioned airs; but its effect on Adeline was now lost, her mind being too much embarrassed and distressed by the presence of the Marquis to admit even the soothings of harmony. A song was now heard, written with that sort of impotent art by which some voluptuous poets believe they can at once conceal and recommend the principles of vice. Adeline received it with contempt and displeasure; and the Marquis perceiving its effect, presently made a sign for another composition, which, adding the force of poetry to the charms of music, might withdraw her mind from the present scene, and enchant it in sweet delirium. SONG OF A SPIRIT. In the sightless air I dwell, On the sloping sun-beams play; Delve the cavern's inmost cell, Where never yet did daylight stray. Dive beneath the green sea waves, And gambol in the briny deeps; Skim every shore that Neptune laves, From Lapland's plains to India's steeps. Oft I mount with rapid force Above the wide earth's shadowy zone; Follow the day-star's flaming course Through realms of space to thought unknown: And listen oft celestial sounds That swell the air unheard of men, As I watch my nightly rounds O'er woody steep and silent glen. Under the shade of waving trees, On the green bank of fountain clear, At pensive eve I sit at ease, While dying music murmurs near. And oft on point of airy clift, That hangs upon the western main, I watch the gay tints passing swift, And twilight veil the liquid plain. Then, when the breeze has sunk away, And ocean scarce is heard to lave, For me the sea-nymphs softly play Their dulcet shells beneath the wave. Their dulcet shells! I hear them now, Slow swells the strain upon mine ear Now faintly falls--now warbles low, Till rapture melts into a tear. The ray that silvers o'er the dew, And trembles through the leafy shade, And tints the scene with softer hue, Calls me to rove the lonely glade;