- peated, which he had so lately played.
It seemed as if the wind, as it blew along the wooded shores had struck upon the chords. It was strange; for Glenarvon was gone. She turned in haste, and from above beheld a young man. Ah no—it was St. Clara. Too soon she saw that it was her. Her ear had caught the last murmurs of Glenarvon's song, and her hand feebly repeated the strain. But, soon perceiving Calantha, she gazed with wild alarm one moment upon her, then, throwing the plumed hat aside, with a grace and ease peculiar to herself, she struck the full chords, and her clear voice ascended upon the air in soft impassioned numbers. Lady Avondale heard the words of her song as it murmured along the breeze.
(To the air of, "Hear me swear how much I love.")
By that smile which made me blest,
And left me soon the wretch you see—
By that heart I once possest,
Which now, they say, is given to thee—
By St. Clara's wrongs and woes—
Trust not young Glenarvon's vows.
