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As on she moves with hesitating grace,

She wins assurance from his soothing voice;

And, with a look the pencil could not trace,

Smiles thro' her blushes, and confirms the choice.

Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame!

To thee shc turns—forgive a virgin's fears!

To thee she turns with surest, tenderest claim

Weakness that charms, reluctance that endears!

At each response the sacred rite requires,

From her full bosom bursts the unbidden sigh.

A strange mysterious awe the scene inspires;

And on her lips the trembling accents die.

O'er her fair face what wild emotions play!

What lights and shades in sweet confusion blend!

Soon shall they fly, glad harbingers of day,

And settled sunshine on her soul descend!

Ah soon, thine own confest, ecstatic thought!

That hand shall strew thy summer-path with flowers ;

And those blue eyes, with mildest lustre fraught,

Gild the calm current of domestic hours!

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From rock to rock, with giant-bound,

High on their iron poles they pass;

Mute, lest the air, convuls'd by sound,

Rend from above a frozen mass.

* There are passes in the Alps, where the guides tell you to move on with speed, and say nothing, lest the agitation of the air should loosen the snows above. Gray, sect. v. let. 4.

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