“I ventured not to speak of love in such an awful hour,
For hunger glistened in our eyes, and grated to devour
The very rags that covered us!  My pangs I cannot tell,
But in that little hour I felt the eternity of hell.

“For the transport of its tortures did in that hour surround
Two beings on the bosom of a shoreless ocean found;
As we gazed upon each other, with a dismal longing look,
And jealousy, but not from love, our tortured bosoms shook.

“I need but add that we were saved, and by a vessel borne
Again toward our native land to be asunder torn. 
The maiden of my love was rich—­was rich—­and I was poor;
A soulless menial shut on me her wealthy guardian’s door.

“She knew it not, nor would I tell—­tell! by the host of heaven,
My tongue became the sepulchre of sound!—­my heart was riven. 
I fled society and hope; the prison of my mind
A world of inexpressible and guilty thoughts confined.

“She was not wed—­my hope returned; ambition my soul,
Sweeping round me like a fury, while the beacon and the goal
Of desire, ever turbulent and sleepless, was to have
The hand that mine had rescued from the fetters of a slave.

“I was an outcast on the earth, but braved my hapless lot;
And while I groaned impatiently, weak mortals heard it not. 
A host of drear, unholy dreams did round my pillow haunt,
While my days spent in loneliness were darkened o’er with want.

“At length blind fortune favoured me—­my breast to joy awoke;
And then he who had left me on the isolated rock,
I met within a distant land; nor need I further tell,
But that we met as equals there, and my antag’nist fell.

“Awhile I brooded on his death; and gloomily it brought
A desolateness round me, stamping guilt on every thought. 
I trembling found how bloodily my vengeance was appeased,
At what vile price my bosom was of jealousy released.

“For still the breathing of his name by her I lov’d had rung
In remembrance, like the latest sound that falleth from the tongue
Of those best loved and cherished, when upon the bed of death
They bequeath to us their injuries to visit in our wrath.

“But soon these griefs evanished, like a passing summer storm,
And a gush of hope like sunshine flashed around me, to deform
The image of repentance, while the darkness of remorse
Retreated from its presence with a blacker with’ring curse.

“I hurried home in eagerness—–­the leaden moments fled;
My burning tale of love was told—­was told—­and we were wed. 
A tumult of delightfulness had rapt my soul in flame,
But on that day—­my wedding day—­a mourning letter came.

“Joy died on ev’ry countenance—­she, trembling, broke the seal—­
Screamed—­glanced on me! and lifeless fell, unable to reveal
The horrid tale of death that told her new-made husband’s guilt—­
The hand which she that day had wed, her brother’s blood had spilt.