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!