Page:The Improvisatrice.pdf/203

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Alas, for young and passionate spirits! Soon False lights will dazzle. He had madly joined The rebel banner! Oh 'twas pride to link His fate with 's patriot few, to fight For liberty or the grave! But he was now A prisoner; yet there he stood, as firm As though his feet were not upon the tomb: His cheek was pale as marble, and as cold; But his lip trembled not, and his dark eyes Glanced proudly round. But when they bared his breast For the death-shot, and took a portrait thence, He clenched his hands, and gasped, and one deep sob Of agony burst from him; and he hid His face awhile—his mother's look was there. He could not steel his soul when he recalled