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Short shall this half-extinguish'd spirit burn,

And soon these limbs to kindred dust return!

But not, my child, with life's precarious fire,

The immortal ties of nature shall expire;

These shall resist the triumph of decay,

When time is o'er, and worlds have pass'd away!

Cold in the dust this perish'd heart may lie,

But that which warm'd it once shall never die !

That spark unburied in its mortal frame,

With living light, eternal, and the same,

Shall beam on Joy's interminable years,

Unveil'd by darkness-unassuaged by tears !

“ Yet, on the barren shore and stormy deep,

One tedious watch is Conrad doom'd to weep;

But when I gain the home without a friend,

And press

the

uneasy couch where none attend,

This last embrace, still cherish'd in my heart,

Shall calm the struggling spirit ere it part !

Thy darling form shall seem to hover nigh,

And hush the groan of life's last agony !

“ Farewell ! when strangers lift thy father's bier,

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Who then will sooth thy grief, when mine is o'er?

Who will protect thee, helpless Ellenore?

Shall secret scenes thy filial sorrows hide,

Scorn'd by the world, to factious guilt allied ?

Ah! no; methinks the generous and the good

Will woo thee from the shades of solitude !

O'er friendless grief compassion shall awake,

And smile on innocence, for Mercy's sake !"

Inspiring thought of rapture yet to be,

The tears of love were hopeless, but for theel

If in that frame no deathless spirit dwell,

If that faint murmur be the last farewell,

If Fate unite the faithful but to part,

Why is their memory sacred to the heart ?

Why does the brother of my childhood seem

Restored a while in every pleasing dream?

Why do I joy the lonely spot to view,

By artless friendship bless'd when life was new?

Eternal Hope! when yonder spheres sublime

Peal'd their first notes to sound the march of Time,

Thy joyous youth began-but not to fade.

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When wrapt in fire the realms of ether glow,.

And Heaven's last thunder shakes the world below;

Thou, undismay'd, shalt o'er the ruins smile,

And light thy torch at Nature's funeral pile !

NOTES.

ON PART I.

NOTE a, p. 10.

And such thy strength-inspiring aid that bore

The hardy Byron his native shore. The following picture of his own distress, given by BYRON in his simple and interesting narrative, justifies the description in page 10.

After relating the barbarity of the Indian cacique to his child, he proceeds thus : “ A day or two after we put to

sea again, and crossed the great bay I mentioned we had

“ been at the bottom of when we first hauled away to the

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