O there is a sweet æra in the life of man, when (the brain being tender and fibrillous, and more like pap than anything else)⸺a story read of two fond lovers, separated from each other by cruel parents, and by still more cruel destiny⸺
Amandus ⸺He Amanda ⸺She⸺
each ignorant of the other’s course,
He⸺east She⸺west
Amandus taken captive by the Turks , and carried to the emperor of Morocco’s court, where the princess of Morocco falling in love with him, keeps him twenty years in prison for the love of his Amanda .⸺
She—( Amanda ) all the time wandering barefoot, and with dishevell’d hair, o’er rocks and mountains, enquiring for Amandus! ⸺ Amandus! Amandus! —making every hill and valley to echo back his name⸺
Amandus! Amandus!
at every town and city, sitting down forlorn at the gate⸺Has Amandus! —has my Amandus enter’d?⸺till,⸺going round, and round, and round the world⸺chance unexpected bringing them at the same moment of the night, though by different ways, to the gate of Lyons , their native city, and each in well-known accents calling out aloud,
Is Amandus Is my Amanda } still alive?
they fly into each other’s arms, and both drop down dead for joy.