CONRAD. He pass'd the portal-cross'd the corridore, And reach'd the chamber as the strain gave o'er : My own Medora! sure thy song is sad-' "In Conrad's absence wouldst thou have it glad? Without thine ear to listen to my lay, Still must my song my thoughts, my soul betray : Still must each accent to my bosom suit, My heart unhush'd-although my lips were mute! |