IX. I once was quick in feeling-that is o'er;- Which hath no words, 'tis that I would not die Which snared me here, and with the brand of shame om long infection of a den like this, here the mind rots congenial with the abyss, - left untended in a dull repose, at Thou-when all that Birth and Beauty throws o power in death can tear our names apart, s none in life could rend thee from my heart. es, Leonora! it shall be our fate o be entwined for ever-but too late! TO *** OH Lady! when I left the shore, The distant shore, which gave me birth, Where panting Nature droops the head, I view my parting hour with dread. Though far from Albin's craggy shore, Divided by the dark-blue main; A few, brief, rolling seasons o'er, Perchance I view her cliffs again: I ne'er shall bend mine eyes on thee: All charms which heedless hearts can move, Whom but to see is to admire, And, oh! forgive the word-to love. Forgive the word, in one who ne'er Believe me, what I am, thy friend. |