And now again I feel thy breath, O spring!
And now the seal hath fallen from my gaze,
And thy wild music in my ready ear
Finds a quick echo! The discordant world
Mars not thy melodies; thy blossoms now
Are emblems of my heart; and through my veins
The flow of youthful feeling, long pent up,
Glides like thy sunny streams! In this fair scene,
On forms still fairer I my blessing pour;
On her the beautiful, the wise, the good,
Who learnt the sweetest lesson to forgive;
And on the bright-eyed daughter of our love,
Who soothed a mother, and a father saved!
CHAPTER II.
Between the reconciliation of Lady Annabel Herbert with her husband,
at the Armenian convent at Venice, and the spring morning in the
Apennines, which we have just described, half a year had intervened.
The political position of Marmion Herbert rendered it impossible for
him to remain in any city where there was a representative of his
Britannic Majesty. Indeed, it was scarcely safe for him to be known
out of America. He had quitted that country shortly after the struggle
was over, chiefly from considerations for his health. His energies had
been fast failing him; and a retired life and change of climate had
been recommended by his physicians.
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