shower of tears on her pillow as he kissed her pallid cheek; then, seating himself by her side, he took her hand. Her languid eyes that moment were illumined with two streams of animated fire: he looked at her earnestly; they were rivetted eye to eye above an hour. As he prayed to her and blessed her, she smiled with angel sweetness on his face. The convulsive agonies of death came on: the physician begged him to quit the room; but she clasped his hand so hard, and gave him a look of such expression, that he sobbed out, "Oh! impossible!" Convulsions rent her delicate frame; she struggled, but still quitted not the hand of her father; at last, with the violent effort of pain, she raised herself on her bed, cried in agony-" now, now." A smile played on her face as she murmured, "I g Igo-my sins are for given! Father, bless....” With this last word she left her grasp, but left it not till the last breath of life had passed her lips, and the once-loved child was now cold and lifeless. Hayward tore the father from the corpse. A hearse was ordered to convey the body to London, whither, in two days afterwards, they all set forward. The procession was a sad one. The spirits of both were so dejected, that the friend, the benevolent, the good Hayward was unable to console the afflicted. He groaned inwardly at the melancholy scenes he had witnessed; yet such, said he to himself, are the daily consequences of unlawful love! and wilful man still per severes. ODE à CYNTHIE. De la nuit pale souveraine, Vers le plaisir, guide ses pas: Satisfais mon ame inquiète; Veille t'il quand ton règne sombre Aime-t'il à suivre des yeux, Le cours que tu traces dans l'ombre? Errant dans ces climats lointains, Où dardent les traits de ton frère, Sait-il à sa vive lumière, Préférer tes feux argentins? Ou dans la pompe d'une fête, Fuit-il l'éclat de cent flambeaux, 'Pour s'égarer sous les berceaux, Ou perce ta clarté discrète? ODE TO CYNTHIA. "As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, PALE regent of the midnight sky, Whose soften'd beam allows the gaze Of the wan lover's fixed eye, As by the fav'ring glade he strays. Say, does thy noon my love delight? Does he prefer thy sober reign To all the charms of perfect day, Where his warm beams delight to glow, In age, as youth, glad spirits flow, Does he prefer thee, gentle queen, Car l'amant fidele à ses vœux, De son soufle à peine zephire, Les faux plaisirs et le vain bruit, D'une tendre mélancholie Mon cœur savoure les attraits, Quand, dans le silence et le frais, Ton orbe à rever me convie. Souvenir d'un époux chéri, Rien alors ne vient te distraire; En fixant l'astre qui l'éclaire, Je crois me rapprocher de lui. Ah! quelle consolante idée! Oui, Cynthie, en songeant à toi, De mon Edward la pensée S'élance au même instant vers moi. Pour suivant l'aimable chimère; Nos ames franchissent les airs; Et des deux bouts de l'univers, Vont s'unir dans ta sphère. For, dear to love's abstracted thought Is the soft radiance of thine eye; Thy silver horn with calmness fraught, Wild joys and frantic pleasures fly. And, oh! congenial to my mind, Thy rays their timid lustre shed; To tender sadness oft inclin'd, How soothing the pale day they spread! Oh! in this hour of still repose, Thy lovely face unclouded shows, Oh! let me think his pensive eye On the same object fixt with mine; Fond fancy, sweetest truth supply, Then, Cynthia, in thy world we join. |