Good angels be his guard! Oh! if he knew
How my soul clings to thine, he could not hate
Even a Provençal maid! Thy father!—now
Thy soul will be at peace, and I shall see
The sunny happiness of earlier days
Look from thy brow once more! But how is this?
Thine eye reflects not the glad soul of mine;
And in thy look is that which ill befits
A tale of joy.
Raim. A dream is on my soul.