As the branch, at the bidding of Nature, Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree, Through her eyes, through her every feature, Shines the soul of the young Haideé. 2. But the loveliest garden grows hateful But when drunk to escape from thy malice, My heart from these horrors to save: Will nought to my bosom restore thee? Then open the gates of the grave! 3. As the chief who to combat advances Thus thou, with those eyes for thy lances, Hast pierc'd through my heart to its core. Ah, tell me, my soul! must I perish By pangs which a smile would dispel? Would the hope, which thou once bad'st me cherish, For torture repay me too well? Now sad is the garden of roses, Beloved but false Haideé! There Flora all wither'd reposes, And mourns o'er thine absence with me. X. Written beneath a Picture. 1. DEAR object of defeated care! Though now of Love and thee bereft, To reconcile me with despair Thine image and my tears are left. "Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope; But this I feel can ne'er be true: For by the death-blow of my Hope My Memory immortal grew. XI. On Parting. 1. THE kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left, 2. Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, An equal love may see: The tear that from thine eyelid streams Can weep no change in me. 3. I ask no pledge to make me blest Nor one memorial for a breast, Whose thoughts are all thine own. 4. Nor need I write-to tell the tale Unless the heart could speak? 5. By day or night, in weal or woe, . That heart, no longer free, Must bear the love it cannot show, And silent ache for thee. |