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ROSALIE.
She bent in passionate idolatry
Before her heart's sole idol—Manfredi!
II.
'Tis night again—a soft and summer night;—
A deep-blue heaven, white clouds, moon and starlight;—
So calm, so beautiful, that human eye
Might weep to look on such a tranquil sky:—
A night just formed for Hope's first dream of bliss,
Or for Love's yet more perfect happiness!
The moon is o'er a grove of cypress trees,
Weeping, like mourners, in the plaining breeze;
Echoing the music of a rill, whose song
Glided so sweetly, but so sad, along.
