11.
My wounded soul, my bleeding breast,
Can patience preach thee into rest?
Alas! too late, I dearly know,
That joy is harbinger of woe.

Thou art not false, but thou art fickle,

To those thyself so fondly sought; The tears that thou hast forc'd to trickle

Are doubly bitter from that thought: 'Tis this which breaks the heart thou grievest, Too well thou lov'st—too soon thou leavest.

2.

The wholly false the heart despises,

And spurns deceiver and deceit;

But her who not a thought disguises,

Whose love is as sincere as sweet, When she can change who lov'd so truly, -, , It feels what mine has felt so newly.

3.

To dream of joy and wake to sorrow

Is doom'd to all who love or live; And if, when conscious on the morrow,

We scarce our fancy can forgive, That cheated us in slumber only, . To leave the waking soul more lonely,

What must they feel whom no false vision,

But truest, tenderest passion warm’d?
Sincere, but swift in sad transition,

As if a dream alone had charm'd ?
Ah! sure such grief is fancy's scheming,
And all thy change can be but dreaming

XXVII.

On being asked what was the “ Origin of Love ?!

The“ Origin of Love!”—Ah why

That cruel question ask of me?
When thou may'st read in many an eye

He starts to life on seeing thee!' I
And should'st thou seek his end to know-, :,:

My heart forebodes, my fears foresee, up He'll linger long in silent woe-. : : A Big

But live-until I cease to be.

Remember him, whom passion's power

Severely, deeply, vainly provedRemember thou that dangerous hour

When neither fell, though both were loved.

That yielding breast, that melting eye,

*Too much invited to be blest . That gentle prayer, that pleading sigh,

The wilder wish reprov’d, repressid

Oh! let me feel that all I lost,...

But saved thee all that conscience fears, . ! And blush for every pang it cost . :

To spare the vain remorse of years! ..

Yet think of this when many a tongue, ,?

Whose busy accents whisper blame, Would do the heart that loved thee wrong,

And brand a nearly blighted name. ir

Think that whate'er to others--thout

Hast seen each selfish thought subdu'd;
I bless thy purer soul even now, initi

Even now, in midnight solitude.

Oh, God! that we had met in time, yes, ; ;

Our hearts as fond-thy hand more free ;! When thou had'st lov'd without a crime,..:

And I been less unworthy thee! ;,,!"

1%. Far be thy days as heretofore ! .

From this our gandy world be pass’d! . And that too bitter moment o'er, it

Oh! may such trial be thy last! !

8.

This heart, alas! perverted long,

s Itself destroyed might there destroy ; : To meet thee in the glittering throng,

Would wake Presumption's hope of joy..

Then to the things whose bliss or woe';

Like mine is wild and worthless all That world resign--such scenes forego,

Where those who feel must surely fall.