Till thy hard heart be calcined into dust,

And thy soul welter in its hideous crust.

Oh, may thy grave be sleepless as the bed,

The widow'd couch of fire, that thou hast spread!

Then, when thou fain wouldst weary Heaven with prayer,
Look on thine earthly victims-and despair!

Down to the dust!-and, as thou rott'st away,
Even worms shall perish on thy poisonous clay.
But for the love I bore, and still must bear,
To her thy malice from all ties would tear—
Thy name-thy human name-to every eye
The climax of all scorn should hang on high,
Exalted o'er thy less abhorr'd compeers—
And festering in the infamy of years.

ΤΟ

1.

WHEN all around

grew

drear and dark,

And reason half withheld her ray

And hope but shed a dying spark

Which more misled my lonely way;

2.

In that deep midnight of the mind,

And that internal strife of heart, When dreading to be deem'd too kind, The weak despair-the cold depart ;

3.

When fortune changed-and love fled far, And hatred's shafts flew thick and fast,

Thou wert the solitary star

Which rose and set not to the last.

4.

Oh! blest be thine unbroken light!
That watch'd me as a seraph's eye,
And stood between me and the night,

For ever shining sweetly nigh.

5.

And when the cloud

upon us came,

Which strove to blacken o'er thy ray—

Then purer spread its gentle flame,

And dash'd the darkness all away.

6.

Still may thy spirit dwell on mine,

And teach it what to brave or brookThere's more in one soft word of thine,

Than in the world's defied rebuke.

ศ.

Thou stood'st, as stands a lovely tree,

That still unbroke, though gently bent,

Still waves with fond fidelity

Its boughs above a monument.

8.

The winds might rend-the skies might pour,

But there thou wert-and still wouldst be

Devoted in the stormiest hour

To shed thy weeping leaves o'er me.

9.

But thou and thine shall know no blight,
Whatever fate on me may fall;

For heaven in sunshine will requite

The kind and thee the most of all.

10.

Then let the ties of baffled love

Be broken-thine will never break;

Thy heart can feel-but will not move;
Thy soul, though soft, will never shake.

11.

And these, when all was lost beside,

Were found and still are fix'd in thee

And bearing still a breast so tried,

Earth is no desert-ev'n to me.

We do not curse thee, Waterloo !

Though Freedom's blood thy plain bedew;

There 'twas shed, but is not sunk—

Rising from each gory trunk,

Like the Water-spout from ocean,
With a strong and growing motion—
It soars, and mingles in the air,
With that of lost LABEDOYERE-

With that of him whose honour'd grave
Contains the "bravest of the brave."
A crimson cloud it spreads and glows,
But shall return to whence it rose;
When 'tis full 'twill burst asunder-
Never yet was heard such thunder

As then shall shake the world with wonder