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“ O Sister, tired with fruitless chase
Of shadows still receding,
I come to seek a resting-place:
And see! my feet are bleeding.
Oh, I am come in search of rest,
Counsel and aid to borrow,
And to a sister's faithful breast
Confide my secret sorrow.
“ The youth for whom each blushing flower
In varied wreath I braided,
Ungrateful, owns no more my power,
For, ah! their bloom is faded.
“ To him my sweetest lays I sung,
When oft the world had grieved him: No longer now can charm my tongue;
He tells me I've deceived him.
“But, Fancy, if thy lyre were lent,
And cestus, to my keepingBut say, what rosy
innocent Within thine arms is sleeping?
“ How still the little slumberer lies,
Sweet dreams his rest beguiling!
I wish he would unclose his eyes,
And gaze upon me smiling.
« One kiss !”-“Nay,” Fancy cried; "refrain,
Lest you the urchin waken,
And ne'er can be o’ertaken.
6 I found him, tired with insect chase,
Beneath a rose-tree lying:
All faded was his cherub face;
So pale, I thought him dying.
“ I held him to my pitying breast,
For could I then but take him ?
the innocent to rest,
And, Hope, thou must not wake him.”
“ I will not: cease thy vain alarm.
Ore kiss-he will not feel it
One kiss the slumberer will not harm,
And, Fancy, I must steal it."
He wakes, he wakes! he spreads his wings;
And while for flight preparing,
Alas! see how the dart he flings
The breast of Hope is tearing.
'Twas Love! Too late the truth she found.
And is he then departed ?
None but the hand that dealt the wound,
Can heal the broken-hearted.
And of calm content bereave me?
Faithless are thy smiles—then leave me.
cup of sweet delirious pain Was mingled: then what wishes vain, Restless passions fired my brain,
Yet, how sweet
The Siren music to my ear !
Is it death indeed to hear ?
Oh, once more the sounds so dear,
Hope, repeat. -Hasten, bind me to the mast!
Urge the lingering vessel past,
No more, no more thy melting strain
With angry swell,