The Argosy — page 204: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

160 | Cyril Trevor's Wood-Nymph. A few weeks afterwards there was a very quiet wedding in Pau. I was obliged to return to England, and could not bear to leave my wife behind, so the trousseau was curtailed, and Beatrice came with me to disperse the gloom of Trevorhurst. Years have passed since then, years full of quiet happiness seldom broken by storms ; and never once have I regretted meeting my fate among the beeches. The mists are again stealing up the hillsides, as I stand on the same balcony on which this tale commences, looking over the same scene. The sun is once more declining in the west—the Pyrenees seem far, and dim, and cold—too grand to heed the sighing of the breeze that comes from them to me. But they cannot chill the memories that bind us to the past, nor freeze the mingled joy and sadness of those days, when the dear old man, who loved us both, plotted and planned the welfare of my wood-nymph and myself. A LOVE PLAINT. Au, Love! you droop your eyes—and night Hath shadowed all the way. You raise the lids—and oh, how bright Doth shine again the day ! Oh, Love ! your cheek is pale—my heart Is chill as icy rain. You blush—and lo! how quick will start The blood thro’ nerve and vein. Ah, Love! you're silent—and the land Is echoless and still. You speak—and ever vast and grand Pours out the song-bird’s trill. Oh, Love ! if such the power you wield On lips, and ear, and heart, In truth, let pity be my shield So we may never part ! ECOMICOOOKS.CO @