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And, loveliest! can it be Such destiny is made for thee? Yes, it is written on thy brow The all thy lip may not avow,— All that in woman's heart can dwell, Save by a blush unutterable. Alas! that ever came To light thy cheek and heart to flame,— A hidden fire, but not the less Consuming in its dark recess.

She had leant by his couch of pain, When throbbing pulse and bursting vein Fierce spoke the fever, when fate near Rode on the tainted atmosphere; And though that parch'd lip spoke alone Of other love, in fondest tone,