He spake of his home in the city,
Of the wealth he soon would own;
Promised to make Lenora his wife
Ere the summer days had flown.
Lenora loved this stranger
With a soul-absorbing love,
And trembled 'neath his caresses
As helpless as a dove.
He was a master of the art
That robs the halls of Truth
To gain what passion courts,
Tho' it blasts the hopes of youth.
His honied words of flattery,
Uttered with seductive art,
Were music to the listening ear
And soon deceived the heart.
Lenora confided in his worth,
Receiving each promise as truth—
How could she doubt her only love
In the trustful hours of youth?