Nor knowing I was come, who was not look'd for,

Is he to whom my sister's hand was pledg'd!
But oh! the very shadow of himself;

So wan, so thin, so broken-down he seem'd.
He too had been away, and had return'd
One hour too late to see her in her grave.

Breathing her last, and thinking not on him,
On him the lover, but on me, on me.
It was the afternoon, and round the bed
Her brothers were all gather'd; all but one.
Her mother held the sufferer in her arms,
And her two sisters, one on either side,
Gaz'd on her angel face and silent wept.
She never in her loveliest hour had look'd
More beautiful, poor girl! than she did then.
When suddenly a loud and rapid ring

Was heard at the hall-door. A letter came,
A packet for ***

**

'T was from me.

My name was mention'd in a whisper'd tone
Among the group, who ask'd if it were well

To tell her I had cross'd the ocean safe.

lay

But she had heard the sound she held most dear.
Just then, one of the brothers, who had stepp'd

A moment from the room, came softly back.
The blessed creature open'd her dim eyes,

On which the sleep of death was fast descending,
And caught the figure, and she faintly cry'd,
"Oh me! I thought 't was *****

**

*

that had come!

?" It was all she said.

After this moment, the fast-failing breath
Was heard in inarticulate sounds alone.

And when the hand of her that gave her life
Press'd on the beautiful lids, that never more
Should ope to shed their light, oh God! on me,
The spirit that ascended to the stars

Bore on its subtile, and invisible essence,

One image Death could dim, but not efface.

13*

ODES.