Page:Literary Souvenir 1826.pdf/11

250

I marked the haughty spirit's strife To rend its bonds in vain: Again I asked the cause of ill, And heard Love's name again.

Yet on I went: I thought that Love To woman's gentle heart, Perhaps, had flung a lighter shaft, Had given a fairer part.

I looked upon a lovely face, Lit by a large dark eye; But on the lash there was a tear, And on the lip a sigh.

I asked not why that form had drooped, Nor why that cheek was pale: I heard the maiden's twilight song, It told me all her tale.

I saw an urn, and round it hung An April diadem Of flowers, telling they mourned one Faded and fair like them.

I turned to tales of other days, They spoke of breath and bloom; And proud hearts that were bowed by Love Into an early tomb.