soft,
olive complexion as she examines every corner of the garden. Having
completed her survey without discovering any cause for the suspicions
she seems to entertain, she again employs herself over her instrument.
Once more she strikes the chords, and now with a bolder hand. The
notes she produces resolve themselves into a wild, plaintive, irregular
melody, alternately rising and sinking, as if swayed by the fickle
influence of a summer wind. These sounds are soon harmoniously
augmented by the young minstrel's voice, which is calm, still, and
mellow, and adapts itself with exquisite ingenuity to every arbitrary
variation in the tone of the accompaniment. The song that she has
chosen is one of the fanciful odes of the day. Its chief merit to her
lies in its alliance to the strange Eastern air which she heard at her
first interview with the senator who presented her with the lute.
Paraphrased in English, the words of the composition would run thus:--

THE ORIGIN OF MUSIC

I.

Spirit, whose dominion reigns
Over Music's thrilling strains,
Whence may be thy distant birth?
Say what tempted thee to earth?

Mortal, listen: I was born
In Creation's early years,
Singing, 'mid the stars of morn,
To the music of the spheres.

Once as, within the realms of space,
I view'd this mortal planet roll,
A yearning towards they hapless race,
Unbidden, filled my seraph soul!

Angels, who had watched my birth,
Heard me sigh to sing to earth;
'Twas transgression ne'er forgiv'n
To forget my native Heav'n;
So they sternly bade me go--
Banish'd to the world below.

II.

Exil'd here, I knew no fears;
For, though darkness round me clung,
Though none heard me in the spheres,
Earth had listeners while I sung.

Young spirits of the Spring sweet breeze
Came thronging round me, soft and coy,
Light wood-nymphs sported in the trees,
And laughing Echo leapt for joy!

Brooding Woe and writhing Pain
Soften'd at my gentle strain;
Bounding Joy, with footstep fleet,
Ran to nestle at my feet;
While, aroused, delighted Love
Softly kiss'd me from above!

III.

Since those years of early time,
Faithful still to earth I've sung;
Flying through each distant clime,
Ever welcome, ever young!

Still pleas'd, my solace I impart
Where brightest hopes are scattered dead;
'Tis m