III.

But now the dance is o'er--yet stay awhile; Ah, pause! nor yet put out the social smile. To-morrow for the Mooa we depart, But not to-night--to-night is for the heart. Again bestow the wreaths we gently woo, Ye young Enchantresses of gay Licoo![376] How lovely are your forms! how every sense Bows to your beauties, softened, but intense,[fi] 60 Like to the flowers on Mataloco's steep, Which fling their fragrance far athwart the deep!-- We too will see Licoo; but--oh! my heart!-- What do I say?--to-morrow we depart!