Which grows but deeper with advancing years!
Nay, question me no more—these arms shall tell
My growing coldness!
Veniero.
Thou dost love me then!
‘And thy young heart, in tenderness unchecked,
‘Shall pour its thoughts and feelings in my breast,
‘Even as of yore. Come hither! I will hear
‘Patient, the tale of maiden fears and hopes;
‘And note not all the trembling, downcast looks