Page:Deserter.pdf/6

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Now Mary’s image haunts his soul. In woe’s dark tints array’d. While to his breast compassion stole, And all her claims display’d.

For me her native home (he said), “ For me each weeping friend, “ For me a father’s arms fhe fled— “ And shail not love attend ?

'Say, for a chosen lover’s sake, “ What more could woman do ? "And now that health and peace forsake, “ Shall I forsake her too ?

“ Now stretch’d upon the naked ground, “ Oppress'd with pain and fear, "She casts a languid eye around, “ Nor sees Cabeysa near :

"Now, now she weeps at my delay, “ And shall neglect be mine ? "Snbmit, ye fears, to pity’s sway ! He spoke—and crofs’d the line.

Soon at his fight the fair resum’d Each captivating grace; On her pale check the role rebloom’d, And smiles illum’d her face.

Yet to that cheek return’d in vain Bright healths vermilion dye, For bitter tears that check shall stain, And dim her brilliant eye.