Though my many faults defaced me, Could no other arm be found Than the one which once embraced me, To inflict a cureless wound? Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not, Love may sink by slow decay, But by sudden wrench, believe not Hearts can thus be torn away: Still thine own its life retaineth- Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And the undying thought which paineth Is that we no more may meet. These are words of deeper sorrow Than the wail above the dead; Both shall live, but every morrow Wake us from a widow'd bed. And when thou wouldst solace gather, When our child's first accents flow, Wilt thou teach her to say « Father!>> Though his care she must forego? When her little hands shall press thee, When her lip to thine is prest,
Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee, Think of him thy love had bless'd! Should her lineaments resemble
Those thou never more may'st see, Then thy heart will softly tremble With a pulse yet true to me. All my faults perchance thou knowest, All my madness none can know; All my hopes, where'er thou goest, Wither-yet with thee they go.
Every feeling hath been shaken;
Pride, which not a world could bow, Bows to thee-by thee forsaken, Even my soul forsakes me now: But 't is done-all words are idle- Words from me are vainer still; But the thoughts we cannot bridle Force their way without the will.— Fare thee well!-thus disunited, Torn from every nearer tie,
Sear'd in heart, and lone, and blighted- More than this I scarce can die.
WHEN all around grew drear and dark, And reason half withheld her ray— And hope but shed a dying spark Which more misled my lonely way;
In that deep midnight of the mind, And that internal strife of heart, When dreading to be deem'd too kind, The weak despair-the cold depart; When fortune changed-and love fled far, And hatred's shafts flew thick and fast, Thou wert the solitary star
Which rose and set not to the last. Oh! blest be thine unbroken light! That watch'd me as a seraph's eye, And stood between me and the night, For ever shining sweetly nigh.
And when the cloud upon us came, Which strove to blacken o'er thy ray— Then purer spread its gentle flame, And dash'd the darkness all away.
Still may thy spirit dwell on mine,
And teach it what to brave or brook— There's more in one soft word of thine, Than in the world's defied rebuke.
Thou stood'st, as stands a lovely tree, That still unbroke, though gendy bent, Still waves with fond fidelity
Its boughs above a monument.
The winds might rend—the skies might pour, But there thou wert-and still wouldst be Devoted in the stormiest hour
To shed thy weeping leaves o'er me.
But thou and thine shall know no blight, Whatever fate on me may fall;
For heaven in sunshine will requite The kind-and thee the most of all.
Then let the ties of baffled love
Be broken-thine will never break; Thy heart can feel—but will not move; Thy soul, though soft, will never shake.
And these, when all was lost beside, Were found, and still are fixed, in thee— And bearing still a breast so tried,
Earth is no desert-even to me.
[FROM THE FRENCH.]
We do not curse thee, Waterloo!
Though Freedom's blood thy plain bedew;
There 't was shed, but is not sunk
Rising from each gory trunk, Like the water-spout from ocean, With a strong and growing motion- It soars, and mingles in the air, With that of lost LABEDOYERE- With that of him whose honour'd Contains the « bravest of the brave.>> A crimson cloud it spreads and glows, But shall return to whence it rose; When 't is full 't will burst asunder-
Never yet was heard such thunder As then shall shake the world with wonder-- Never yet was seen such lightning, As o'er heaven shall then be bright'ning! Like the Wormwood star foretold By the sainted seer of old, Showering down a fiery flood, Turning rivers into blood. 1
1 See Rev. chap. viii. verse 7, etc.
The first angel sounded, and
there followed hail and fire mingled with blood, etc.
Verse 8. And the second angel sounded, and as it were a great mountain burning with fire was cast into the sea; and the third part of the sea became blood, etc.
Verse 10. And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great
The chief has fallen, but not by you, Vanquishers of Waterloo!
When the soldier citizen
Sway d not o'er his fellow men- Save in deeds that led them on Where glory smiled on freedon's son- Who, of all the despots banded,
With that youthful chief competed? Who could boast o'er France defeated, Till lone tyranny commanded? Till, goaded by ambition's sting, The hero sunk into the king? Then he fell;-so perish all, Who would men by man enthral!
And thou too of the snow-white plume! Whose realm refused thee even a tomb; 1 Better hadst thou still been leading France o'er hosts of hirelings bleeding, Than sold thyself to death and shame For a meanly royal name;
Such as he of Naples wears,
Who thy blood-bought title bears.
star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp; and it fell upon part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters.
Verse 11. And the name of the star is called Wormwoo the third part of the waters became wormwood; and of the waters, because they were made bitter..
1 Murat's remains are said to have been torn from the grave
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