t with the light of the morning, and decked with the blossoms
of spring.

The days of betrothment are over, for now when the evening star shines,
Two faces look joyfully out from that purple-clad trellis of vines;
The light-hearted laughter is doubled, two voices steal forth on the
air,
And blend in the light notes of song, or the sweet solemn cadence of
prayer.
At morning when Paolo departeth, 'tis out of that sweet cottage door,
At evening he comes to that casement, but passes that casement no more;
And the old feeble mother at night-time, when saying, "The Lord's will
be done,"
While blessing the name of a daughter, now blendeth the name of a son.

PART II.--TRIUMPH AND REWARD.

In the furnace the dry branches crackle, the crucible shines as with
gold,
As they carry the hot flaming metal in haste from the fire to the mould;
Loud roars the bellows, and louder the flames as they shrieking escape,
And loud is the song of the workmen who watch o'er the fast-filling
shape;
To and fro in the red-glaring chamber the proud master anxiously moves,
And the quick and the skilful he praiseth, and the dull and the laggard
reproves;
And the heart in his bosom expandeth, as the thick bubbling metal up
swells,
For like to the birth of his children he watcheth the birth of the
bells.

Peace had guarded the door of young Paolo, success on his industry
smiled,
And the dark wing of Time had passed quicker than grief from the face of
a child;
Broader lands lay around that sweet cottage, younger footsteps tripped
lightly around,
And the sweet silent stillness was broken by the hum of a still sweeter
sound.
At evening when homeward returning how many dear hands must he press,
Where of old at that vine-covered wicket he lingered but one to caress;
And that dearest one is still with him, to counsel, to strengthen, and
calm,
And to pour over Life's needful wounds the healing of Love's blessed
balm.

But age will come on with its winter, though happiness hideth its snows;
And if youth has its duty of labour, the birthright of age is repose:
And thus from that love-sweetened toil, which the heavens had so
prospered and blest,
The old Campanaro will go to that vine-covered cottage to rest;
But Paolo is pious and grateful, and vows as he kneels at her shrine,
To offer some fruit of his labour to Mary the Mother benign--
Eight silver-toned bells will he offer, to toll for the quick and the
dead,