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In the absence of a historical internet source, the text for this first poem has been transcribed from F. J. Sypher. This is for completeness’ sake: hopefully, in the future, a contemporary source will become readily available. SECOND SIGHT. A Dramatic Scene.

Ronald—Ellen

Ellen.—Oh! I will chide thee, truant! Look how fair, Like to love’s promises, the heavens appear! The blue Night has put on her wreath of stars— A bright queen in her proud regality! The young Moon is arisen, and the waves Have welcomed her in music, while the winds Bear her their song, mixed with the breath of flowers Our island yields, like to sweet incense given In homage to her beauty!—All is still Save the melodious language of the leaves; And yonder star, our own pale signal star, Has reached the dark hill’s point unmarked by thee, Nay, turn not thus away—speak, mine own love! Ronald.—My own, my gentle treasure! I could gaze On those blue eyes, and quite forget that shades Are gathering on their brightness. Alas! dear love, An evil circle is fast closing round. I have not hidden from thee my fatal gift To look upon the future, and to feel Like present things those which are yet to come— And on me now is consciousness of ill. Ellen.—Nay, I must smile this gloomy mood away: Come, I will sing the words which thou didst frame Like flowers in a fair wreath.—I heard to-day A wild sad air, just fit for them, ’tis one Of those sweet spells whose power is more upon The heart than even the ear. Ronald.—                No, no; not now! I cannot bear to see thee smile, yet know Thy step is on a precipice; that I Shall lead thee to the brink—and lead to perish. Ellen.—This of thyself, false prophet! Ronald, no; Oh, I will not believe thee. Come, be gay: You’re a dull lover for a lady’s bower. You do not love me.