Who, until her Sister, honoured the Author by walking with him in the Evening.

Adieu! dear girl! if we are doom'd to part,
Take with thee, take, the blessing of this heart,
Due to thy gentle mind, and cultur'd sense;
Perhaps 'twill please, but, sure, can't give offence.
Tho', when we met, the solar ray was gone,
And on our steps the moon-beam only shone,
Yet well I mark'd thy form and native grace,
And all the sweet expression of thy face;
And pleas'd I listen'd as thy accents fell,
Accents that spoke a feeling mind so well
Lo, when the birds repose at ev'ning hour,
The sweetest of them carols from her bow'r!
So, when the dews the garden's fragrance close,
The night-flow'r[A] blooms, the rival of the rose!

[Footnote A: One of the creeping cereuses, usually known by the name of the night-flower, is said to be as grand and as beautiful as any in the vegetable system. It begins to open in the evening, about seven o'clock; is in perfection about eleven, perfuming the air to a considerable distance, and fades about four in the morning.]