THE AVENGED BRIDE.

CANTO III.

I.

THE Sun has sunk, and to her lonely tower,

Drooping and sad, Adelia now repairs;

And dark and dismal, as the clouds that lower,
Sinks her fond heart-she faulters and despairs-

Counts o'er the minutes of each fleeting hour,
Nor yet her lord is granted to her prayers;

He comes not sends not—" heartless, faithless one!
Why dost thou leave me here to mourn alone?"

II.

She said—and through her lattice wildly gazed,

Till every object in the deepening gloom

Assum'd that well-known shape her mind had raised;
Oft she conceiv'd she saw his sable plume
Wave in the breeze, until her dark eye glazed

And swam in sadness-he for whom

This lonely vigil she so truly kept,

Appear'd not-came not-yet she watch'd and wept.

III.

In speechless agony at times she sate,

Then slowly pace her chamber to and fro

Then sudden stop, and through the lattice grate

Gaze, till the tears unknown to her would flow;

Her heart felt crush'd-alone, and desolate

He it had beat for, or in weal or wo,

On whom its every thought alone was plac'd,
Was gone-and all within was wild and waste.

IV.

Down on her couch in bitter grief she sunk,

Her brain seem'd madden'd, and there flitted through

A thousand shapes-one time his headless trunk,
A mangled corse, his reckless victor drew
In brutal triumph--from this sight she shrunk,
Appall'd and heart-sick-then again she'd view
Him captiv'd, fetter'd, and the goading chain
Entering his soul, and ling'ring life in pain.

V.

"Ah me!" she cried, " is this the promised joy That Hymen gave, when on my bridal night

He lit his torch--and Pleasure held it high,

And talk'd of years of rapture and delight,

'Till the believing soul drank copiously

Th' illusive draught-'twas short-liv'd as 'twas bright!

Like that sweet, delicate, and tender flower,

That blooms, decays, and withers in an hour."1

I

VI.

While yet she mourn'd-in sad and alter'd state,
Pale with fatigue, with toil and travel worn,
Hopeless and heartless, at the outer gate

Arrive, with feelings scarcely to be borne,

Those few whom death reserved for future fate;
Distress'd, distracted, ruin'd and forlorn,

With fever'd bosom and with trembling feet,

Macquillan hastes, but dreads his bride to meet.

VII.

He reach'd the porch, and pass'd the corridore-
Falt'ring and slow ascends the narrow stair;

He gains, but pauses at her chamber door

He knew the accents of his fell despair

Would grieve that heart that flow'd with kindness o'er: How could Adelia these sad tidings bear?

He fell, and dreaded still a greater fall,

But yet he mann'd his heart to brave it all.

VIII.

When fortune smiled and troops of friends caress'd,

She was his morning star, whose cheering ray
Sooth'd him to love-and all the clouds that press'd
To damp his glowing visions, chased away;
Now he was fallen, ruin'd, and opprest-

She was his load-star still-his life, his day:
In her he felt his soul's last, richest store,

She was his all-earth held for him no more!

IX.

He breath'd her name-she heard, and quickly flew
To meet her lord, and rush'd into his arms;
Close to his heart his weeping bride he drew-

A moment gazed with rapture on her charms

Wiped from her lids the bright, fast-falling dew

Sooth'd, kiss'd, caress'd, and calm'd her wild alarms

Ere yet, with trembling heart, he dare relate

The tale which told her she was desolate.