464 VALENTINE. 
And mock my boding! dim similitudes 
Weaving in moral strains, I stole one hour 
From anxious self, Life’s cruel taskmaster | 
And the warm wooings of this sunny day 
Tremble along my frame, and harmonize 
The attempered organ, that even saddest thougiés 
Mix with some sweet sensations, like harsh tungs 
Played deftly on a soft-toned instrument. 
Valentine. 
Southey. 
NO, Valentine, and tell that lovely maid 
Whom fancy still will image to my sigh? 
iow here [ linger in this sullen shade, 
This dreary gloom of dull, unvarying night. 
Say that from every joy of life remote, 
At evening’s closing hour I quit the throng, 
Listening in solitude the ring-dove’s note, 
Who pours like me her melancholy song. 
Say that her absence calls the sorrowing sigh ; 
Say that of all her charms I love to speak 
In fancy feel the magic of her eye, 
In fancy view the smile illume her cheek ; 
Court the lone hour when Silence rules the grove, 
And heave the sigh of Memory and of Love. 


