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Rh

She lies deep in earth— The forest boughs wave o'er her; birds will sing As blithely, and the fawn shall calmly sleep Upon her unblest grave, as tho' he stretched His limbs on sod undrenched with human blood. There is no witness of my crime; the world Will call me good and virtuous, and my tomb Be sculptured o'er with poets' flatteries— 'Tis here, 'tis in my brain, that I am stamped With deadly sin! What would my prayer avail? Can I repent that I have saved my child And thee from shame? Were it to do again, This arm is ready. I have murdered her— A helpless woman, and my wedded wife;— Could I repent of this, I had been mad When I performed the deed. I knew the crime Was hopeless, and I shrunk not from it; but Never, oh never, nor on earth nor heaven Shall I taste peace again.