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For on a grateful nation's breaste
Thou and this orphan babe shall reste,
For bleste the tears that waile the brave,
THE SYMPATHY OF LOVE.
We met—we gazed—I saw and sighed
Without suspicion--then, even then,
I longed, and was resolved to speak ; . But on my lips they died again,
The accents tremulous and weak,
A frivolous and foolish play,
It was enough for me to be
So near to her, and oh I to see The being whom I loved the most I watched her as a sentinel, (May ours this dark night watch as well!) Until I saw, and thus it was, That she was pensive, nor perceived : Her occupation, nor was grieved Nor glad to lose or gain; but still Played on for hours, as if her will Yet bound her to the place, though not That hers might be the winning lot. Then through my brain the thought did pass Even as a flash of lightning there,
That there was something in her air,
All incoherent as they were
Who listens once will listen twice ;
Her heart, be sure, is not of ice,
THE DEATH OF HAIDEE.
The last sight which she saw was Juan's gore,
And he himself o'ermastered and cut down ; His blood was running on the very floor
Where late he trod, her beautiful, her own; Thus much she viewed an instant and no more
Her struggle ceased with one convulsive groan ; On her sire's arm, which until now scarce held Her writhing, fell she like a cedar felled.
A vein had burst-and her sweet lips' pure dyes
Were dabbled with the deep blood which ran o'er ; And her head drooped as when the lily lies
O'ercharged with rain; the summoned handmaids bore Their lady to her couch with gushing eyes :
Of herbs and cordials they produced their store, But she defied all means they could employ,". Like one life could not hold, nor death destroy!
Days lay she in that state, unchanged, though chill,
With nothing livid, still her lips were red ;
No hideous sign proclaimed her surely dead;
All hope: to look upon her sweet face bred
The ruling passion, such as marble shows
When exquisitely chiselled, still lay there, But fixed as marble's unchanged aspect throws
O'er the fair Venus, but for ever fair ; O'er the Laocoon's all-eternal throes,
And ever-dying Gladiator's air, Their energy
like life forms all their fame, Yet looks not life, for they are still the same.
She woke at length
but not as sleepers wake Rather the dead, for life seemed something new, A strange sensation which she must partake
Perforce, since whatsoever met her view Struck not on memory, though a heavy ache
Lay at her heart, whose earliest beat, still true, Brought back the sense of pain without the cause, For, for awhile, the Furies made a pause.
On many a
She looked on many a face with vacant eye,
cen wi out knowing what ; She saw them watch her, without asking why,
And recked not who around her pillow sat ; Not speechless, though she spoke not: a sigh
Relieved her thoughts ; dull silence and quick chat Were tried in vain by those who served—she gave No sign, save breath, of having left the grave.
Her handmaids tended, but she heeded not ;
Her father watched she turned her eyes awayShe recognised no being, and no spot,
However dear or cherished in their day:
Gentle, but without memory, she lay;