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24 "Nor be thou lonely—though thy lord's away,

"Our matrons and thy handmaids with thee stay;

"And this thy comfort—that, when next we meet,

"Security shall make repose more sweet:

"List!—'tis the bugle—Juan shrilly blew—

"One kiss—one more—another—Oh! Adieu!"

She rose—she sprung—she clung to his embrace,

Till his heart heaved beneath her hidden face.

He dared not raise to his that deep-blue eye,

That downcast droop'd in tearless agony.

Her long fair hair lay floating o'er his arms,

In all the wildness of dishevelled charms;

Scarce beat that bosom—where his image dwelt—

So full—that feeling seem'd almost unfelt!

Hark—peals the thunder of the signal-gun!

It told 'twas sunset—and he curs'd that sun.

Again—again—that form he madly press'd,

Which mutely clasp'd—imploringly caress'd!

And tottering to the couch his bride he bore,

One moment gazed—as if to gaze no more—

Felt—that for him earth held but her alone,

Kiss'd her cold forehead—turn'd—is Conrad gone?