Never, ah, nevermore shall this dear head
Be pillowed on the heart that should have sheltered
And has betrayed! Soft—soft! one kiss—poor wretch!
No scorn on that pale lip forbids me now!
One kiss—so ends all record of my crime!
It is the seal upon the tomb of Hope,
By which, like some lost, sorrowing angel, sits
Sad Memory evermore.
Lady of Lyons.
