Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/267

 LYRICt L P1EC]S. Like spirits, that talk to the dull ear.of Night; When the Moon, thro' her clouds, sheds a dim, sickly light, And the tray'liar, bewilder'd, hears, wild with affright, The fiend of the tempest .loud yelling; Oh, then, slowly stealing, Their forms .half-concealing, Thro' the gloom airy shadows of past days come nigh, And Mem'ry's own voice seems to speak in each sigh Of the deep-sobbing blast, that moans fitfully by, Sad tales of past sorrow revealing. My lone watch thus keeping, 'While mortals are steeping In the soft dews of slumber each care of the mind, How oft at thy side, lonely mourner, reclin'd, In silence I grieve, to thy visions resign'd; O'er the grave of past happiness weeping. SONG OF A FEMALE INDIAN SLAVE, SEPARATED FROM HER LOVER. OH, ye, who thus tear me away, Your cruelty triumphs in vain, ......... Google

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