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But now, sad change! I fly thy light,And plunge amid the shades of night;Or, if thy soul-enliv'ning rayUpon my weary eyelids-play,'Tis only to increase the pain,The burning fever in my brain.
But soon this scene of sorrow o'er,My bursting heart shall feel no more;Soon shall thy lovely beam be shedUpon my dark, cold, narrow bed,And all that lives beneath thy lightBe shut for ever from my sight.
MARY.
"Ah! why thus reclin'd on the beach, in mute sorrow, Dost thou strain thy dim eyes o'er the wide roaring sea;Perhaps the wish'd bark may arrive here to-morrow, And the winds now be wafting thy lover to thee."
"Oh, no!" she exclaim'd, while the tear-drops were streaming, And the deeply-drawn sob swell'd her labouring breast,"No longer of love, or of happiness dreaming, I look to the grave as the place of my rest.
