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“I am in love,” her whispers tell

The aged woman in her woe:

“My heart’s delight, thou art not well.”⁠—

“I am in love, nurse! leave me now.”

Behold! the moon was shining bright

And showed with an uncertain light

Tattiana’s beauty, pale with care,

Her tears and her dishevelled hair;

And on the footstool sitting down

Beside our youthful heroine fair,

A kerchief round her silver hair

The aged nurse in ample gown,

Whilst all creation seemed to dream

Enchanted by the moon’s pale beam.