The scene was changed. Apart within the walls Of his lone study sat the youth. Before Him lay a letter, breathing much of deep, Impassioned love. Yes, he again had dared At that same Angel-shrine his heart to lay, And, well as _words_ could speak, a love to paint, Not torpid, cold and calculating, like The selfish feeling of a worldly man-- But with the every fibre of his heart Inwove. For he had seen her oft, and well Had studied both her features, mind and heart, Since first the pangs of unrequited love Across his bosom shot: in all things had He found her of such perfect, faultless mould-- So far beyond compare with all that e'er His eye had looked upon--yea, e'en than aught Of fairy form, which frolic fancy in Her wildest mood had shadowed glowing forth To young imagination's quickened sight,-- That madly had he drunk at passion's fount, Ere yet the voice of reason whispered late, (Too late, alas! for in the vortex was He twirling then, unskilled the yawning gulf To shun,) that she was not for one like him. Perchance the spell that bound him unto her And deep affection's gushing waters stirred, Was wrought into its present strength--for that She minded him of one--a sister dear-- Like her in nature as in name, on whom His heart did centre once, when joyous, bright And sunny hours e'er gilded o'er the stream Of early life about their childhood's home; When each was to the other all that earth Of joy could give--a little world--beyond Whose narrow bounds their youthful vision then Extended not. And now in her he saw The image of that sister's mind and heart Reflected back in colors yet more bright, And felt that life to him was nothing worth, Except with her its joys and ills were shared. IV. The scene was changed. Within her father's home The maiden sat, and bent her o'er the page On which were traced the wild outpourings of Her lover's heart. A cloud was on her brow-- Not gathered there by anger, but by grief. And long she sorrowed o'er the fate of one Whom she had learned to value far above The worthless crowd that throngs round Beauty's form; Then sudden snatched a pen, and tho' it pained Her much, did haste once more in kindest terms To bid him banish Hope--for tho' a _friend_ She'd ever be--to him she could no more. V.