"How doubly poignant is my smart,
" Bereaved of my Cen'lin's heart!
"Exil'd from that deluded breast,
" Where I had fondly hop'd to rest,
"With faith undoubting, sweet repose,
" Till Death should bid my eye-lids close.
"And sometimes yet will hope arise;
" Till now he ever scorn'd disguise;
"Some cursed fiend might taint his youth,
" And warp a temper form'd for truth.
"When late he humbly knelt for grace,
" And clasp'd my knees in close embrace,
"Upon his lips a secret hung,
" But something seem'd to stay his tongue;
"I prest not, for my anger slept,
" And fondness only saw he wept;
"Ah! fatal haste! then had I known
" The serpent, I had sav'd my son!
"Yet surely pardon frank as mine,
" A noble heart would more confine!
"When leaguing with my bitter foe,
" To strike some grand, decisive blow;
"Perhaps to rob me of my throne,
" And make it, ere the time, his own;
"Or, should wan guilt a danger dread,
" To humble this devoted head,
"Each throbbing pang of conscience drown,
" And seize, with bloody hands, the crown.
"O'er this offence I cast a veil,
" And fondly hush'd the whisper'd tale.
"Ah fool! deluded by the grace,
" Of that fine form, and perfect face;
"I thought his bosom free from sin,
" Nor dreamt a demon lurk'd within.
"His voice, which ever could controul,
" Each passion of the hearer's soul,
"With ease my partial heart beguil'd,
" Who knew no sorrows when he smil'd.
"And ah! my friends, your downcast eyes,
" Your pensive air, and smother'd sighs,
"All tell me you lament the fate,
" Of him, whom yet you cannot hate.
"And shall I bear then to behold,
" That form inanimate and cold,
"His smiling lips depriv'd of breath,
" His eyes for ever clos'd in death!
"Ah no! my heart with anguish swells,
" And every throbbing vein rebels.
"Let sorrow weep, or anger thrill,
" Yet all the parent triumphs still.