Thus passed the time,
till the Bell in the neighbouring Steeple of the Capuchin
Cathedral announced the hour of midnight: Antonia remembered her
Mother's injunctions, and obeyed them, though with reluctance.
She undrew the curtains with caution. Elvira was enjoying a
profound and quiet slumber; Her cheek glowed with health's
returning colours: A smile declared that her dreams were
pleasant, and as Antonia bent over her, She fancied that She
heard her name pronounced. She kissed her Mother's forehead
softly, and retired to her chamber. There She knelt before a
Statue of St. Rosolia, her Patroness; She recommended herself to
the protection of heaven, and as had been her custom from
infancy, concluded her devotions by chaunting the following
Stanzas.
MIDNIGHT HYMN
Now all is hushed; The solemn chime
No longer swells the nightly gale:
Thy awful presence, Hour sublime,
With spotless heart once more I hail.
'Tis now the moment still and dread,
When Sorcerers use their baleful power;
When Graves give up their buried dead
To profit by the sanctioned hour:
From guilt and guilty thoughts secure,
To duty and devotion true,
With bosom light and conscience pure,
Repose, thy gentle aid I woo.
Good Angels, take my thanks, that still
The snares of vice I view with scorn;
Thanks, that to-night as free from ill
I sleep, as when I woke at morn.
Yet may not my unconscious breast
Harbour some guilt to me unknown?
Some wish impure, which unreprest
You blush to see, and I to own?
If such there be, in gentle dream
Instruct my feet to shun the snare;
Bid truth upon my errors beam,
And deign to make me still your care.
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