What words--what passionate words he breathed, beseeching, Have long been lost in the descending years: Nevertheless she listened to his teaching, Smiling between her tears. And ever since that hour the happy maiden Wanders unknown of any one but Jove; Regretting not the lost Olympian Aidenn In the Elysium--Love!
All day, with humming and continuous sound, Streaking the landscape, has the slant rain fall'n; But now the mist is vanishing; in the west The dull gray sheet, that shrouded from the sight The sky, is rent in fragments, and rich streaks Of tenderest blue are smiling through the clefts. A dart of sunshine strikes upon the hills, Then melts. The great clouds whiten, and roll off, Until a steady blaze of golden light Kindles the dripping scene. Within the east, The delicate rainbow suddenly breaks out; Soft air-breaths flutter round; each tree shakes down A shower of glittering drops; the woodlands burst Into a chorus of glad harmony; And the rich landscape, full of loveliness, Fades slowly, calmly, sweetly, into night. Thus, sometimes, is the end of Human life. In youth and manhood, sorrows may frown round; But when the sun of Being lowly stoops, The darkness breaks away--the tears are dried; The Christian's hope--a rainbow--brightly glows, And life glides sweet and tranquil to the tomb.
"Now, Moggs--you Moggs--good Moggs--dear Moggs," said his wife, running through the chromatic scale of matrimonial address, and modulating her words and her tones from irritation into tenderness--"yes, Moggs--that's a good soul--I do wish for once you would try to be a little useful to your family. Stay at home to-day, Moggs, can't you, while I do the washing? It would be so pleasant, Moggs--so like old times, to hear you whistling at your work, while I am busy at mine."
And a smile of affection stole across the countenance of Mrs. Moggs, like a stray sunbeam on a cloudy day, breaking up the sharp and fixed lines of care into which her features had settled as a habitual expression, and causing her also to look as she did in the "old times," to which she now so kindly referred.
"Wont you, Moggs?" added she, laying her hand upon his shoulder, "it would be so pleasant, dear--wouldn't it? I should not mind hard work, Moggs, if you were at work near me."