ayed oak,
which had once been a noble tree, and of which many lofty branches still
flourishing united with beech and pines to over-canopy the spot. Beneath
their deep umbrage, the eye passed over the tops of other woods, to the
Mediterranean, and, to the left, through an opening, was seen a ruined
watch-tower, standing on a point of rock, near the sea, and rising from
among the tufted foliage.

Hither Emily often came alone in the silence of evening, and, soothed
by the scenery and by the faint murmur, that rose from the waves, would
sit, till darkness obliged her to return to the chateau. Frequently,
also, she visited the watch-tower, which commanded the entire
prospect, and, when she leaned against its broken walls, and thought of
Valancourt, she not once imagined, what was so true, that this tower had
been almost as frequently his resort, as her own, since his estrangement
from the neighbouring chateau.

One evening, she lingered here to a late hour. She had sat on the steps
of the building, watching, in tranquil melancholy, the gradual effect
of evening over the extensive prospect, till the gray waters of the
Mediterranean and the massy woods were almost the only features of the
scene, that remained visible; when, as she gazed alternately on these,
and on the mild blue of the heavens, where the first pale star of
evening appeared, she personified the hour in the following lines:--

SONG OF THE EVENING HOUR

Last of the Hours, that track the fading Day,
I move along the realms of twilight air,
And hear, remote, the choral song decay
Of sister-nymphs, who dance around his car.

Then, as I follow through the azure void,
His partial splendour from my straining eye
Sinks in the depth of space; my only guide
His faint ray dawning on the farthest sky;

Save that sweet, lingering strain of gayer Hours,
Whose close my voice prolongs in dying notes,
While mortals on the green earth own its pow'rs,
As downward on the evening gale it floats.

When fades along the West the Sun's last beam,
As, weary, to the nether world he goes,
And mountain-summits catch the purple gleam,
And slumbering ocean faint and fainter glows,

Silent upon the globe's broad shade I steal,
And o'er its dry turf shed the cooling dews,
And ev'ry fever'd herb and flow'ret heal,
And all their fragrance on the air diffuse.

Where'er I move, a tranquil pleasure reigns;
O'er all the scene the dusky tints I send,
That for