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glows upon her blossom'd cheek, Glad beauty in her eye, And fond affections pure and meek Her every want supply: Why doth her glance so wildly rove Some fancied foe to find? What dark dregs stir her cup of love? Go ask the sickening mind!

They bear her where with cheering smile The hope of healing reigns For those whom morbid Fancy's wile In torturing bond constrains; Where Mercy spreads an angel-wing To do her Father's will, And heaven-instructed plucks the sting From Earth's severest ill.

Yet o'er that sufferer's drooping head No balm of Gilead stole, Diseas'd Imagination spread Dark chaos o'er the soul; But recollected truths sublime Still fed Devotion's stream, And beings from a sinless clime Blent with her broken dream.

Then came a coffin and a shroud, And many a bursting sigh,