The Rhode-Island Republican. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1809-1841, 1835-11-25

she nerved her heart with womans PRIDE,
And spurned his tickle love.
From the Southern Literary Messenger
CURSE OF THE " BETRAYED ONE"
Il Fragmem-By Hugh Blair.
They moved her couch, that the whispering breath
Ofevening might with its bamy sign,
An fan her brow, the film Of death
Spread over her dark and beautiful eye.
But she needed not the whispering wind,
For her burning thoughts afar were roaming;
Madness had seized on her wretched mind,
And her high brow throbbed. and her lips oamnl
And the beautiful curls Of her sable hair
Streamed wildly over her fevered pillow
And her bosom heaved in its whiteness there,
As the breeze heaves upon the snowy billow-
And her teeth with convulsive grasp were set,
And her eye burned bright a beam of day
She twned her hand in her locks Jet
And tore her glitterng curs away
And she screamed with wild, convulsive shrek,
Then uttered low protracted groan-
As we've heard the wind thro your lattice break,
And die away with hollow moan
But at length, through tho evenings gathering gloom,
Her voice came forth from the riven chords
Other broken heart, from tomb
And she uttered these wild and fearful words:
"Tve loved thee, man, with an ardent love;
I've sworn it by each orb above
BY the glorions Sun when he sank to rest
And lit with his beams the glowing west
BY the palid Moon when her silver beam
Danced gladly DER yon murmuring stream.
Upon whose verdant banks with you
I've stood that holy orb to view
And by every lamp which the dusk of even
Hung out in the gittering arch of heaven.
cannot now deny the flame
Which has wasted thus my wrctched frame
For I've told it thee by many word
Which came from the of my bleeding heart,
As you touched each thrilling, aching chord
BY that helish power, thy fendish art.
I've told it thee by many a sigh,
By many tear in my weary eye,
BY many sob, and many groan
Which burst from the lips of thy "iorely ONE
And I've told thee by the burning streak
Which so often lit my fevered cheek,
As you played with each gttering curl of jet
That waved on the neck of" Thy Martincte!"
Come hither, thou fend and gaze upon me-
Behold the wreck of thy helsh power
Come hi,her have blessing for thee.
Which thou shalt hear in my dying hour.
THAT maiden, she of the lovely face,
Who holds in thy heart my wretched place
Shall become thy bride, and her first born son
be monster, hideous to gaze upon!
And the sight Of the thing shall drive her mad
And while she's screaming in accents wild,
She shall call upon thee in tones most sad,
Thyself to murder her hideous chidl
Oh, she shall shrek in her wild despair,
And her phrensied eye with fearful glare,
Full on thy faithless face shall gleam-
And with lips of foam and teeth close set,
Her voice full in thy shall scream,
Remember the curse of thy Martinote! :"
And with fingers of blood she shall rend her cheek,
And those lips which now in their freshness part,
Shall utter as wild and terrific shrek
AS ever yet burst from my broken heart
And her every shrek and her every groan
Shall wither thy heart thou fathless one
And thus she shall die ere reasons dawn
The veil from her wither'd soul hath drawn.
But her blasted babe, that hdeous thing
Shall live-aDd It's 6ighhful presence shall bring
Calling thoughts, which shall have the power
To blast thy every peaceful hour!
by its blasted form thou shalt forget
The dying curse of Thy Maninctte,"
She spoke, and sunk back on her dying bed,
And the blood gushed forth from her lips of foam
They raised her again--but the spirit had fled
Away, away to its secret home
Ero,u fho Ma fov IeeS