My curdling blood, my madd'ning brain,
In silent anguish I sustain;

And still thy heart, without partaking
One pang, exults—while mine is breaking.

Pour me the poison; fear not thou!
Thou canst not murder more than now :
I've lived to curse my natal day,
And Love, that thus can lingering slay.

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

D

LEAD.*

OUBTLESS, sweet girl! the hissing lead,
Wafting destruction o'er thy charms,

And hurtling o'er thy lovely head,

Has fill'd that breast with fond alarms.

Surely some envious demon's force,

Vex'd to behold such beauty here,
Impell'd the bullet's viewless course,

Diverted from its first career.

* As the author was discharging his pistols in a garden, two ladies passing near the spot were alarmed by the sound of a bullet hissing near them; to one of whom the following stanzas were addressed the next morning.

Yes! in that nearly fatal hour

The ball obey'd some hell-born guide; But Heaven, with interposing power, In pity turn'd the death aside.

;

Yet, as perchance one trembling tear
Upon that thrilling bosom fell
Which I th' unconscious cause of fear,
Extracted from its glistening cell :

Say, what dire penance can atone
For such an outrage done to thee?
Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne,
What punishment wilt thou decree ?

Might I perform the judge's part,

The sentence I should scarce deplore; It only would restore a heart

Which but belong'd to thee before.

The least atonement I can make
Is to become no longer free ;
Henceforth I breathe but for thy sake,
Thou shalt be all in all to me.

But thou, perhaps, may'st now reject
Such expiation of my guilt;

Come then, some other mode elect;
Let it be death, or what thou wilt.

Choose then, relentless! and I swear Nought shall thy dread decree prevent ; Yet hold-one little word forbear!

Let it be aught but banishment.

HE roses of Love glad the garden of life, Though nurtured 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,

Till time crops the leaves with unmerciful

knife,

Or prunes them for ever in love's last adieu!

In vain with endearments we soothe the sad heart,
In vain do we vow for an age to be true;
The chance of an hour may command us to part,
Or death disunite us in love's last adieu !