THE SEA-SERPENT. 
11 
I watch the star whose beam so oft 
Has lighted me to thee ; 
And thou, too, on that orb so clear, 
Ah ! dost thou gaze at even, 
And think, though lost for ever here, 
Thou ’It yet be mine in heaven ? 
ii. 
“ There’s not a garden walk I tread, 
There’s not a flower I see, 
But brings to mind some hope that’s fled, 
Some joy I’ve lost with thee ; 
And still I wish that hour was near, 
When, friends and foes forgiven, 
The pains, the ills, we’ve wept through here, 
May turn to smiles in heaven ! ” 
O, soothing and sweet is the sounding strain 
that Moore has wed to immortal verse ! for songs 
so good we shall look in vain, although we are 
often bored with worse. A murmuring hum of 
applause went round, while Forbes was tuning a 
recreant string, and the gentlemen there, as in duty 
bound, were begging Madame Passo to sing. She 
sang from “ Lucia ” a little gem. Hushed while 
