Eleëmon, Eleëmon !" then said the Demon, "The girl shall be thine,

By the tie she holds divine,
Till time that tie shall sever;
And by this writing thou art mine,
For ever, and ever, and ever!"

III.

Look at yon silent dwelling now!
A heavenly sight is there,
Where Cyra in her Chamber kneels
Before the Cross in prayer.

She is not loth to leave the world; For she hath been taught with joy To think that prayer and praise thenceforth Will be her life's employ.

And thus her mind hath she inclined,
Her pleasure being still,

(An only child and motherless,)

To do her Father's will.

The moonlight falls upon her face,
Upraised in fervour meek,
While peaceful tears of piety
Are stealing down her cheek.

That duty done, the harmless maid
Disposed herself to rest;

No sin, no sorrow in her soul,
No trouble in her breast.

But when upon the pillow then, Composed, she laid her head, She little thought what unseen Powers Kept watch beside her bed.

A double ward had she that night,
When evil near her drew;
Her own Good Angel guarding her,
And Eleëmon's too.

Their charge it was to keep her safe
From all unholy things;

And o'er her while she slept, they spread
The shadow of their wings.

So when an Evil Dream drew nigh They barr'd him from access, Nor suffer'd him to reach her with A breath of sinfulness.

But with his instigations they
A hallowing influence blent,
And made his fiendish ministry
Subserve to their intent.

Thus while in troubled sleep she lay,
Strange impulses were given,
Emotions earthly and of earth,
With heavenly ones of Heaven.

And now the nightingale hath ceased
Her strain, who all night long
Hath in the garden rosier trill'd
A rich and rapturous song.

The storks on roof and dome and tower
Forbear their clattering din,

As now the motions and the sounds
Of daily life begin.

Then as from dreams that seem'd no dreams
The wondering Maid awoke,

A low sweet voice was in her ear;
Such as we might expect to hear
If some Good Angel spoke.

According with her dreams, it said,
"So, Cyra, must it be;

The duties of a wedded life

Hath Heaven ordain'd for thee."

This was no dream full well she knew ; For open-eyed she lay,

Conscious of thought and wakefulness, And in the light of day;

And twice it spake, if doubt had been, To do all doubt away.

Alas! but how shall she make known
This late and sudden change?

Or how obtain belief for what
Even to herself is strange?

How will her Father brook a turn That must to all seem shame? How bear to think that vulgar tongues Are busy with her name?

That she should for a voice, . . a dream,
Expose herself to be the theme

Of wonder and of scorn; . .
Public as her intent had been,
And this the appointed morn!

The Nuns even now are all alert ;
The altar hath been drest,
The scissars that should clip her hair
Provided, and the black hood there,

And there the sable vest.

M 3

And there the Priests are robing now; The Singers in their station; Hark in the city she can hear The stir of expectation!

Thro' every gate the people pour, And guests on roof and porch and tower Expectant take their place;

The streets are swarming, and the church Already fills apace.

Speak, then, she must: her heart she felt This night had changed its choice; Nor dared the Maiden disobey,.. Nor did she wish to (sooth to say), . . That sweet and welcome voice.

Her Father comes: she studies not
For gloss, or for pretence;

The plain straight course will Cyra take, (Which none without remorse forsake,) Of truth and innocence.

"O Father, hear me patiently!"
The blushing Maiden said;
"I tremble, Father, while I speak,
But surely not for dread;