86
Ill fated bride! unbraid thy raven hair, Give it abroad upon the winds to flow;For ill such splendour suits with thy despair; And tear those circling diamonds from thy brow: Where is thy bridegroom,—where thy lover now? Poor widow'd bride! if thou would'st weep Where Albert's bones for ever sleep, Go seek them at Christina's urn, And o'er thy rival's ashes mourn; For there, in mournful silence laid, Thy plighted bridegroom, and his Norway maid In one low grave together rest.— Will the cold dews that fall around, Like tear-drops on the sacred ground,E'er quench the fever raging in thy breast? Or the chill breezes, as they blow,;;Cool thy parch'd lip and burning cheek?—ah, no!—
THE FAIR CAPTIVE.
Upon a wild and rugged coast,Where loud the ocean surges tost,A solitary watch-tow'r stood,And frown'd upon the restless flood.
