140

DKATH S DOINGS.

Shrieks of despair the rude gale swelled,And demons of the night-storm yelled,At my departure.— Could it be—She, the beloved one!—where was she?

Ha ! 'twas a sudden flash! that spire,

Seen through the lightning's lurid fire,

Had met my gaze before! Deep, deep,

In Memory's page, awake, asleep,

It dwelt in sacred vividness,

Through weal, through woe, my soul to bless.

Mary !—My vows!—The bright, bright ray

That shone upon our favoured day—■

The joyous peal that on our ear

Rang its glad changes, full and clear—

The words that, 'neath that sacred shrine,

Proclaimed thee mine— for ever mine!—

Yet sweetly haunted me—when, lo!

A change came o'er my dream of woe!

It was a rapid, sudden change,

To darkness—mist—moonlight—a range

Of mountains in the distance ; then,

A desert heath, from press of men

Removed; and then, a fitful sky

Of battling clouds—of anarchy—