Distracted at leaving the maid of his love, All agonized ;-hopeless ;-too poor to remove And long he persisted; but, stiffened with cold, And then did he think, till 'twas madness to think, On the raptures his Mary had given; And oft at the sight his poor senses would sink, When this ungifted wretch made him keenlier shrink From the raptures of forfeited heaven. "Twas a cold wintry season, the night it was dark, And long was the eve;-on his cheek, While his eye brooded vacantly o'er the pale spark, As it died on the hearth, the beholder might mark Those workings that bid the heart break. He thought on the maid; on the choice of his youth; He thought on the days that were flown; He painted with feelings more vivid than truth The raptures that wonted his bosom to sooth, When he counted that Maiden his own. And he dwelt on her look, on her soft melting gaze, On the roll of her languishing eye; And he felt all the throbs of her willing embrace, And recalled the warm touch of her soft melting face, And heard the inarticulate sigh. Then he looked on his mate, and she seem'd to his view A fiend that tormented his soul! He lifted his hand; and, oh God! ere he knew The extent of his crime, the poor victim he slew, 'Twas an impulse he might not control! For their prey now the blood-hunters anxiously wait, The unfortunate woodman is bound! Once more he beholds the heavy hinged gate Of the prison; the fetters with torturing weight Again bend him down to the ground. There agonized, hopeless, remorseful, he lies, With passions diseasedly rife ; Disarmed of a conscience that comfort supplies, With the frenzies of madness he impiously tries To exhaust the vexed remnants of life. He is sentenc'd to die; nor to him was the doom With regret or reluctancy fraught ;— His misery mocks all the threats of the tomb, And he earnestly prays that the moment may come, The sabbath of agonized thought. The day is appointed; slow moves on the throng, That would glut their foul gaze with his woes; It trampleth the vale, then windeth along That desolate hill, whose wild thickets among A gibbet all fearfully rose. The scaffold he mounts; the moment is near, Then death it was horror;-the past was forgot― From her visage he fearfully shrunk : One embrace she implor'd, then quick to the spot The fear-winged Mary distractedly shot, On the breast of her lover she sunk. She was senseless; her pale cheek was worn to the bone, To the breeze floated wildly her hair; And he glued to his breast, with a horrible groan, The love of his youth; and his eyes fixed as stone, At that moment did deathfully glare. The pang it is passed;-for the minions of law Asunder these wretched ones tore; The cord round his neck they inhumanly draw, Mary's eyes, tho' half clos'd, the dire spectacle saw, Nor her senses could mortal restore. The Circumstances related in the following Lines fell under the Author's notice, and are detailed without any poetical exaggeration. 1797. TURN not thy dim eyes to the stormy sea, Of brother, son, and friend! and more than these, The inexplicable lingerings which endear To the susceptible breast the scenes where first Of Nature's volume! But he may not go Which knew him best, the heart which sadly mark'd His full soul, and his vigorous spirit sink |