a thin black veil, and touched it with inimitable softness.
Hers was the CONTOUR of a Madona, with the sensibility of a Magdalen;
and the pensive uplifted eye, with the tear that glittered on her cheek,
confirmed the expression of the character.

The last strain of distant music now died in air, for the gondola was
far upon the waves, and the party determined to have music of their own.
The Count Morano, who sat next to Emily, and who had been observing her
for some time in silence, snatched up a lute, and struck the chords
with the finger of harmony herself, while his voice, a fine tenor,
accompanied them in a rondeau full of tender sadness. To him, indeed,
might have been applied that beautiful exhortation of an English poet,
had it then existed:

Strike up, my master,
But touch the strings with a religious softness!
Teach sounds to languish through the night's dull ear
Till Melancholy starts from off her couch,
And Carelessness grows concert to attention!

With such powers of expression the Count sung the following

RONDEAU

Soft as yon silver ray, that sleeps
Upon the ocean's trembling tide;
Soft as the air, that lightly sweeps
Yon sad, that swells in stately pride:

Soft as the surge's stealing note,
That dies along the distant shores,
Or warbled strain, that sinks remote--
So soft the sigh my bosom pours!

True as the wave to Cynthia's ray,
True as the vessel to the breeze,
True as the soul to music's sway,
Or music to Venetian seas:

Soft as yon silver beams, that sleep
Upon the ocean's trembling breast;
So soft, so true, fond Love shall weep,
So soft, so true, with THEE shall rest.

The cadence with which he returned from the last stanza to a repetition
of the first; the fine modulation in which his voice stole upon the
first line, and the pathetic energy with which it pronounced the last,
were such as only exquisite taste could give. When he had concluded,
he gave the lute with a sigh to Emily, who, to avoid any appearance of
affectation, immediately began to play. She sung a melancholy little
air, one of the popular songs of her native province, with a simplicity
and pathos that made it enchanting. But its well-known melody brought
so forcibly to her fancy the scenes and the persons, among which she had
often heard it, that her spirits were overcome, her voice trembled and
ceased--and the strings of the lute were struck with a disordered hand;
till, ashamed of t