Looks like rose-leaf dipp'd in dew,
I'll think of thee, love, _then_!

When mirth's pageant joys unbind
The gloomy spells that chain my mind,
And make me dream of all that's kind,
I'll think of thee, love, _then_!

And when pensive sadness clouds me,
When the host of memory crowds me,
When the shadowy past enshrouds me,
I'll think of thee, love, _then_!

When seems the bliss of former years,--
Too sweet, too pure, to feel again,--
And long lost hours, scenes, friends, return,
I'll think of thee, love, _then_!




Chapter III.

The Dinner.



"Hues which have words, and speak to ye of heaven."

"Away! there need no words or terms precise,