he grave, and poured
forth such lamentations as would have drawn tears from the most savage
hearer. He called aloud upon Monimia's name, "Are these the nuptial joys
to which our fate hath doomed us? Is this the fruit of those endearing
hopes, that intercourse divine, that raptured admiration, in which so
many hours insensibly elapsed? where now are those attractions to which I
yielded up my captive heart? quenched are those genial eyes that
gladdened each beholder, and shone the planets of my happiness and peace!
cold! cold and withered are those lips that swelled with love, and far
outblushed the damask rose! and ah! forever silenced is that tongue,
whose eloquence had power to lull the pangs of misery and care! no more
shall my attention be ravished with the music of that voice, which used
to thrill in soft vibrations to my soul! O sainted spirit! O unspotted
shade of her whom I adored; of her whose memory I shall still revere with
ever-bleeding sorrow and regret; of her whose image will be the last idea
that forsakes this hapless bosom! now art thou conscious of my integrity
and love; now dost thou behold the anguish that I feel. If the pure
essence of thy nature will permit, wilt thou, ah! wilt thou indulge this
wretched youth with some kind signal of thy notice, with some token of
thy approbation? wilt thou assume a medium of embodied air, in semblance
of that lovely form which now lies mouldering in this dreary tomb, and
speak the words of peace to my distempered soul! Return, Monimia,
appear, though but for one short moment, to my longing eyes! vouchsafe
one smile! Renaldo will be satisfied; Renaldo's heart will be at rest;
his grief no more will overflow its banks, but glide with equal current
to his latest hour! Alas! these are the raving of my delirious sorrow!
Monimia hears not my complaints; her soul, sublimed far, far above all
sublunary cares, enjoys that felicity of which she was debarred on earth.
In vain I stretch these eyes, environed with darkness undistinguishing
and void. No object meets my view; no sound salutes mine ear, except the
noisy wind that whistles through these vaulted caves of death."

In this kind of exclamation did Renaldo pass the night, not without a
certain species of woful enjoyment, which the soul is often able to
conjure up from the depths of distress; insomuch that, when the morning
intruded on his privacy, he could scarce believe it was the light of day,
so fast had fle