FRAGMENT XI.

COME death! come sweet annihilation, and terminate at once the horrors of existence! Mary -yes, my queen discards me, contemns my passion, and sends the fatal mandate for my dismissal hence. Do I exist? Is this the happiness I fondly pictured?-Fool that I am! poor doating infant, how have I quaffed the sweet illusions of hope only to feel the venom of despair more poignant to my soul.

And wilt thou not befriend me, death? Dost thou contemn me? I have the will, I have the power, and who can stay me? Come faithful steel, and end at once this conflict of my griefs; come; for 'tis Mary sends thee on the annihilating errand, and therefore do thy work with cheerfulness. There is but this 'twixt me and the cold grave, and then I rush from misery and hopeless love. But whither, ah! where do I hurry? Is it forgetfulness? Is it annihilation? Re

F

ligion, thou bring'st a phalanx

of contending

Self-immola

thoughts to puzzle and appal me. tion! hath the Omnipotent then placed a bar 'twixt this life-ending dagger and my heart? Must I endure and be accursed here, or seek my fate, and still exist the creature of thy wrath hereafter how determine, how explore the labyrinth which entangles me? Cowardice !-What, can it be coward-like to spurn the certainty I have, and fly to regions unexplored? Where hope exists, life would become a stake too dear to hazard at one fell cast; but all with me is dreariness; and if I live, existence pictures to my mind one cheerless blank; a life of hopeless love, despair, and jealousy. Can I behold her another's? can I suffer a creature to bask in the full blaze of her charms, and not hurl him to perdition? Impossible! then life still cherished must taint my soul with murder! Time, what art thou? the space life is but a day; and shall not I still bear my agonies In vain, therefore, wouldst thou still physic my sad mind with hope that years may steep my griefs in sweet forgetfulness. Never; no, never, will Chatelar forget to love; never can he banish Mary from the tablet of his heart; she lives, she blazes there for ever and for ever! Religion, thou art to me no comforter. Time, thou art no healer of my pain; then still must I recur to thee, life-terminating dagger!

of

What!

can my brain still conjure up excuse upon excuse, and war against my better reason? I will give thought full scope, though nothing can stir me from my determination-Death.

The grave! yes, Chatelar, it may be found, and honourably found without thy stir. War may accomplish thine intent, and bury thee with honour. Thou may'st court it in the field; thou may'st bare thy bosom to its shaft, and sink renowned into the shades of calm oblivion.

Dost thou not mock me, all-devouring death? wilt thou not fly me then, and laugh thy wretched supplicant to scorn? No-still art thou here: still may this keen weapon do its work, and

Chatelar rest with thee

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* I will begone; heavens! that ever Chatelar should live to say it: yes, I will rid thee, Mary, of my hateful form for ever. France shall behold me: I will tear myself from love's celestial court, and hie me to the bloody banquetings of hungry Mars: but not like him shall I return again unto the queen of love. Rest here then, steel, for still I look to thee. Come, dearest rosary, that when I press the sod drench'd with my flowing blood, I may imprint on thee a parting kiss, and on life's terminating sigh waft forth the name of Mary. Come too, Petrarch; for Chatelar is now more hopeless than ever thou thyself wast: yes, come then,

sweet gift of my bright queen, rest here upon my heart, for thou shalt be my study till I yield my breath upon the field of honour.

Thanks, eternal Providence, that Chatelar was not the child of greatness; for no creature but my offended Mary desires the fate of him who dies her slave; 'tis true she hath dismissed me, but with tempered sweetness bids me learn to know my state, and then she may accord a kind forgiveness. To my bright queen alone the passion of my heart is thus revealed; and she, I am sure, will not refuse forgiveness in the grave. Perhaps the fate of Chatelar will call forth a tear of kind commiseration for his sufferings, and Mary will embalm his fleeting soul in peace.The morning breaks, and the first tinge of day lights me to wretchedNow then to horse, poor love-sick and despised Chatelar; that none may be the witness of thy sad farewell to all in life that could ensure thee peace and happiness.

ness.