By such allusions scandalous,

Yet was her inmost soul o'erjoyed

With satisfaction marvellous,

As in her heart the thought sank home,

I am in love, my hour hath come!

Thus in the earth the seed expands

Obedient to warm Spring's commands.

Long time her young imagination

By indolence and languor fired

The fated nutriment desired;

And long internal agitation

Had filled her youthful breast with gloom,

She waited for - I don't know whom!

VII.

The fatal hour had come at last -

She oped her eyes and cried: 'tis he!

Alas! for now before her passed

The same warm vision constantly;

Now all things round about repeat

Ceaselessly to the maiden sweet

His name: the tenderness of home

Tiresome unto her hath become

And the kind-hearted servitors:

Immersed in melancholy thought,

She hears of conversation nought

And hated casual visitors,

Their coming which no man expects,

And stay whose length none recollects.

VIII.

Now with what eager interest

She the delicious novel reads,

With what avidity and zest

She drinks in those seductive deeds!

All the creations which below