XX
“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.