84
poems.
'Twas thus with them! that young and happy pair,
So lov'd, so innocent, so blest, and good.
Their sky was bright;—but oh! their doom despair.
See yon dark figure steal along the wood!
He heard their vows! what rage is in his breast!
He stands behind a cedar on the shore;
And as he hears his hated rival blest,
He vows that voice shall never bless him more!
He shouted wildly, and his dagger gleam'd
A moment in the moon's pure silver ray;—
Then on the turf the crimson current stream'd.
Where is the murderer? He is far away!
When morning came they found young Henri dead,
And his Theresa senseless at his side.
They sought Du Montville, but he far had fled;
And 'tis suppos'd Theresa droop'd and died.
But where? oh, where? not in her father's cot!
She stray'd afar along that fatal shore;
Her mother's love, her father's house, forgot,
The maniac left, and she return'd no more!
So lov'd, so innocent, so blest, and good.
Their sky was bright;—but oh! their doom despair.
See yon dark figure steal along the wood!
He heard their vows! what rage is in his breast!
He stands behind a cedar on the shore;
And as he hears his hated rival blest,
He vows that voice shall never bless him more!
He shouted wildly, and his dagger gleam'd
A moment in the moon's pure silver ray;—
Then on the turf the crimson current stream'd.
Where is the murderer? He is far away!
When morning came they found young Henri dead,
And his Theresa senseless at his side.
They sought Du Montville, but he far had fled;
And 'tis suppos'd Theresa droop'd and died.
But where? oh, where? not in her father's cot!
She stray'd afar along that fatal shore;
Her mother's love, her father's house, forgot,
The maniac left, and she return'd no more!
1841.
