er arms an hour ago.
With the air which is her breath--
Her soft and delicate breath--
Over them murmuring low!

On their lips her sweet kiss lingers yet,
And their cheeks with her tender tears are wet.
For she weeps--that gentle mother weeps--
(As morn and night her watch she keeps,
With a yearning heart and a passionate care)
To see the young things grow so fair;
She weeps--for love she weeps;
And the dews are the tears she weeps
From the well of a mother's love!

II.

Ye have a world of light,
Where love in the loved rejoices;
But the blind girl's home is the House of Night,
And its beings are empty voices.

As one in the realm below,
I stand by the streams of woe!
I hear the vain shadows glide,
I feel their soft breath at my side.
And I thirst the loved forms to see,
And I stretch my fond arms around,
And I catch but a shapeless sound,
For the living are ghosts to me.

Come buy--come buy?--
(Hark! how the sweet things sigh
For they have a voice like ours),
`The breath of the blind girl closes
The leaves of the saddening roses--
We are tender, we sons of light,
We shrink from this child of night;
From the grasp of the blind girl free us--
We yearn for the eyes that see us--
We are for night too gay,
In your eyes we behold the day--
O buy--O buy the flowers!'

'I must have yon bunch of violets, sweet Nydia,' said Glaucus, pressing
through the crowd, and dropping a handful of small coins into the
basket; 'your voice is more charming than ever.'

The blind girl started forward as she heard the Athenian's voice; then
as suddenly paused, while the blood rushed violently over neck, cheek,
and temples.

'So you are returned!' said she, in a low voice; and then repeated half
to herself, 'Glaucus is returned!'

'Yes, child, I have not been at Pompeii above a few days. My garden
wants your care, as before; you will visit it, I trust, to-morrow. And
mind, no garlands at my house shall be woven by any hands but those of
the pretty Nydia.'

Nydia smiled joyously, but did not answer; and Glaucus, placing in his
breast the