The spells learned of her nurse in infancy,
Which would all witchcraft render innocent;
But that great cavern of the northern world
Was not by nurse's spells to be dissolved,
Growing more wond'rous, as she wondered more.

Now, 'neath her feet, the floor less polished grew,
And fountains dashed from the unsculptured rock;
She saw half-finished grottoes, fewer lights,
And heard a discord in the melody
As if of hammers and the shouts of workmen;
Meanwhile her heart loudly began to beat.

"BERTHO! I have come, BERTHO!" she cried out,
As the next moment, 'mid a swarthy group
Of dusky laborers, a familiar form
Raised itself from a shaft of phorphyry,
And turned itself to hear that throbbing heart.

A light too glad for smiles came o'er the face,
The shadowy face, uplifted from its toil,
And, "OLIVE!" echoed back her eager cry.

The fairest sight that cavern ever saw
Was that young girl holding her glowing arms
To clasp her love; her sweet mouth all a-tremble,
Her dark eyes flashing joy and tender tears,
Her bosom fluttering in its snowy folds
With sudden pleasure;--but, what clasped she?
A shadow! Pale and silent she shrank back;