Karamlin.

KARAMSIN.

THE SONG OF BORNHOLM,

CURSES on the world's decree!

That decree which bid us part:

Who has e'er resisted thee,

Passion-throbbing, maddened heart?

Is aught holier than the light
Kindled in our souls by heaven ?

Is aught stronger than the might
Given to love-to beauty given?

Yes! I love-shall ever love!
Curse the passion if ye will,

Call down vengeance from above,

Holy Nature! I, thy child,

To thy sheltering bosom flee : Thou hast fanned this flame so wild, I am innocent with thee.

If to yield to passion's sway,
Be a dark and damning sin;
Why hast thou, O tempter! say,
Lighted passion's fires within ?

No! thy storm-winds as they rolled, Gently rocked our secret bed; And thy thunder, though it growled, Never burst upon our head.

Bornholm! Bornholm! to thy home Memory-wildered memory flies:

Thither would my spirit roam

From its tears-its agonies!

Vain the wish! an outlaw I,

Followed by a father's curse;

Doomed in banishment to die,

Or despairing live-as worse!

Lila! has thy spirit shrunk

From thy woes, and found a grave ? Has thy burthened misery sunk

In oblivion's silent wave?

Let thy shadow then appear,

Smile upon me from the tomb;

Give me, love! a welcome there,

Come, though veil'd in darkness,-come!