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But ah, farewell! the debt is dearly paid—For thee may happier scenes unclouded rise—Oh! where, my poor Christina! hast thou stray'd?Return, my first, best love! and close these dying eyes!"
"My love, my lord!—oh, Heav'n!—he faints! he falls!Ah! stay thee yet, nor leave me here to pine—It is thy bride—'tis thy Matilda calls!Oh, fatal word! I am not, was not thine;—That all too noble heart was never, never mine!"
The voice so pleasing to her ear, So long belov'd, so early dear, Struck on Christina's soul—she came, And fault'ring forth her lover's name, Sunk in his out-stretch'd arms, and there Breath'd her last sigh on the summer-airClos'd her blue eyes to the beams of day,And, like a with'ring flow'r, she droop'd and died away.
"Oh! linger yet, my only bride, Thy long-betroth'd is at thy side; Oh! close not yet thine eyes of blue, Till Albert's eyes shall sleep for ever; For, oh! this heart is freezing too, And we have met, and will not sever! Thus in a first, a last embraceThy form I circle, and thy faded charms; Thus kiss thy dear adored face,Nor death itself tear thee from my arms."—He press'd her cold cheek closer to his own,And flew to greet her in the world unknown.
