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I feel the shadow on my brow, The sickness at my heart; Alas! I look on those I love, And am so sad to part.

If I could leave my love behind, Or watch from yonder sky With holy and enduring care, I were not loath to die;

But death is terrible to Love: And yet a love like mine Trusts in the heaven from whence it came, And feels it is divine.

's house was, that night, the gayest in London. Lord Norbourne wished that the fête given by his daughter should be without a rival. He spared no expense, and Lady Marchmont no taste.