Page:Oriental Sketches Dramatic Sketches and Tales.pdf/206

Rh

Yes, in the grave, When this perturbed heart has ceased to beat, These throbbing pulses rest—Oh, no, not then: Here and hereafter endless misery Must be my lot—eternity of pain! Shrink not, my husband, from my fond caress; Sorrow shall not come nigh thee in my arms; I'll chase away the fiend.—Oh! thou hast sworn, A thousand times, that I possessed the power To sooth thee in thy direst woe, but now You turn away.

Grief hath bedimmed each sense— A dull and torpid weight is on my heart. Alas! thou dost not love me. In the skies,. Upon the earth 'tis written, red with blood—