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“ Yes ; let the clay-cold breast, that never knew

One tender

pang to generous Nature true,

Half-mingling pity with the gall of scorn,

Condemn this heart, that bled in love forlorn!

“ And ye,proud fair, whose soulno gladness warms,

Save Rapture's homage to your conscious charms ?

Delighted idols of a gaudy train !

Ill can your blunter feelings guess the pain,

When the fond faithful heart, inspired to prove

Friendship refined, the calm delight of love,

Feels all its tender strings with anguish torn,

And bleeds at perjured Pride's inhuman scorn!

“Say, then, did pitying Heaven condemn the deed, When Vengeance bade thee, faithless lover! bleed?

F 2

Long had I watch'd thy dark foreboding brow,

What time thy bosom scorn'd its dearest vow!

Sad, though I wept the friend, the lover changed,

Still thy cold look was scornful and estranged,

Till from thy pity, love, and shelter, thrown,

I wander'd, hopeless, friendless, and alone!

“Oh! righteous Heaven ! 'twas then my tortured

soul

First gave to wrath unlimited controul !

Adieu the silent look! the streaming eye!

The murmur'd plaint! the deep heart-heaving sigh;

Long slumbering Vengeance wakes to better deeds!

He shrieks, he falls, the perjured lover bleeds !

Now the last laugh of agony is o’er,

And pale in blood he sleeps, to wake no more!

- 'Tis done! the flame of hate no longer burns ;

Nature relents, but, ah! too late returns !

Why does my soul this gush of fondness feel?

Trembling and faint, I drop the guilty steel !

Cold on my heart the hand of terror lies,

And shades of horror close my languid eyes !

“Oh! 'twas a deed of Murder's deepest grain !

Could B

k's soul so true to wrath remain ?

A friend long true, a once fond lover fell!

Where Love was foster'd, could not Pity dwell?

“Unhappy youth! while yon pale crescent glows,

To watch on silent Nature's deep repose,

Thy sleepless spirit, breathing from the tomb,

Foretells my fate, and summons me to come!

11

Once more I see thy sheeted spectre stand,

Roll the dim eye, and wave the paly hand!

“ Soon may this fluttering spark of vital flame

Porsake its languid melancholy frame!

Soon may these eyes their trembling lustre close,

Welcome the dreamless night of long repose !

Soon

may this woe-worn spirit seek the bourne

Where, lullid to slumber, Grief forgets to mourn !"

SONGS.

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