 mien,
    Lord of the hopeless heart and hollow eye,
    In whose fierce train each form is seen
    That drives sick Reason to insanity!
    I woo thee with unusual prayer,
    'Grim visaged, comfortless Despair!'
    Approach; in me a willing victim find,
    Who seeks thine iron sway--and calls thee kind!

    Ah! hide for ever from my sight
    The faithless flatterer Hope--whose pencil, gay,
    Portrays some vision of delight,
    Then bids the fairy tablet fade away;
    While in dire contrast, to mine eyes
    Thy phantoms, yet more hideous, rise,
    And Memory draws, from Pleasure's wither'd flower,
    Corrosives for the heart--of fatal power!

    I bid the traitor Love, adieu!
    Who to this fond, believing bosom came,
    A guest insidious and untrue,
    With Pity's soothing voice--in Friendship's name;
    The wounds _he_ gave, nor Time shall cure,
    Nor Reason teach me to endure.
    And to that breast mild Patience pleads in vain,
    Which feels the curse--of meriting it's pain.

    Yet not to me, tremendous power!
    Thy worst of spirit-wounding pangs impart,
    With which, in dark conviction's hour,
    Thou strik'st the guilty unrepentant heart!
    But of Illusion long the sport,
    That dreary, tranquil gloom I court
    Where my past errors I may still deplore
    And dream of long-lost happiness no more!

    To thee I give this tortured breast,
    Where Hope arises but to foster pain;
    Ah! lull it's agonies to rest!
    Ah! let me never be deceiv'd again!
    But callous, in thy deep repose
    Behold, in long array, the woes
    Of the dread future, calm and undismay'd,
    Till I may claim the hope--that shall not fade!


The feelings of a mind which could dictate such an address, appeared to
Emmeline so greatly to be lamented, and so unlikely to be relieved, that
the tender and painful compassion she had ever been sensible of for her
unhappy friend, was if possible augmented. Full of ideas almost as
mournful as those by which they had been inspired, she went to bed, but
not to tranquil sleep. Her spirits, worn by her journey, and oppressed
by her concern for Lady Adelina, were yet busy; and instead of the
uneasy images which had pursued her while she waked, they represented to
her others yet more terrifying. She beheld, in her dreams, Godolphin
wildly seeking vengeance of Fitz-Edward for the death of his sister.
Then,
