Awake in me the thrill of joy,
  Or bow my soul in grief;
And makes me strive to make thee blest,
  Or yield thy pangs relief.

Yes, Mary, I will love but thee,
  Of all thy lovely race;
Our hearts shall find in life one home,
  In death one resting place.

And, if I linger now afar,
  ’Tis fortune’s hard decree—­
Oh! were the dove’s swift pinions mine,
  How would I fly to thee.

Those charms, with memory’s feeble light
  On me would cease to beam;
Their rays, with present, perfect warmth,
  Upon my heart would gleam.

Thus, by thy side, so sweetly near,
  How blest to pass my life;
To press thy gentle hand in mine,
  And call thee my sweet wife.

If Adam lost his happiness,
  Bewailed with ceaseless sighs,
With thee, my Eve, I scarce could wish
  Another Paradise.

THOUGH THOU WAST PASSING FAIR.

Though thou wast passing fair,
  And wondrous beauty crown’d thee,
And Fancy’s robe most rare,
  Forever brightly bound thee: 

I could not teach my heart,
  To bow in love before thee,
Nor bid the death depart,
  Which now hangs darkly o’er thee.

I know a hectic flush
  On thy sweet cheek is burning,
That thou dost stilly hush
  Thy wrung heart’s deepest yearning.

I know that in thy breast,
  A serpent closely lurking,
Forbids thee e’er to rest,
  Thy utter ruin working.

When, in the chilly ground,
  Thy lovely form lies sleeping,
Where vi’lets spring around,
  And purest dews are weeping: 

Thy sinless soul ascending
  Above this dreary sod,
Shall feel its being blending
  In deathless love with God.

THE LADY’S SOLILOQUY.

Ah! now I am beloved by him,
  And sweet it is, to think,
That life no more will be so dim,
  To make my spirit sink.

Ah! now I am beloved by him;
  The secret I will keep;
In silence to the mantling brim,
  I’ll quaff this cup so deep.

Beloved by him! beloved by him! 
  How dear the tender thought! 
My eyes in happy tears do swim,
  My heart with bliss is fraught.

Beloved by him—­that noble youth! 
  With proud yet gentle mien,
Who speaks the guileless words of truth,
  And yet is not so “green.”

Beloved by him—­ah!  I shall own
  A husband very soon;
And he shall kneel before my throne,
  With many a costly boon,

The plate, the gold, the proud array
  Of horses, charioteers;—­
And when comes round the paying day,
  I’ll kiss him in arrears!

LOVE WITHOUT HOPE.

I cannot cease to love thee,
  Coldest fair! 
Though pleading cannot move thee,
  And I despair.