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Though the world for this commend thee
Though it smile upon the blow,
Founded on another's wo-
Could no other arm be found
To inflict a cureless wound?
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;
Wake us from a widow'd bed.
When our child's first accents flow,
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,
With a pulse yet true to me.
All my madness none can know;
Wither, yet with thee they go.
Pride which not a world could bow,
Even my soul forsakes me now:
Words from me are yainer still;
Torn from every nearer tie,
More than this I scarce can die.
" Honest-Honest Iago!,
Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred,
Next--for some gracious service unexprest,
many a nameless slander deftly shows :
Foil'd was perversion by that youthful mind,
Serenely purest of her sex that live,
But to the theme :-now laid aside too long
A plain blunt show of briefly-spoken seeming,
Oh! wretch without a tear-without a thought,