Fainting she sinks, and hopes “that hour is pass’d!”
Wake, Irza, wake to grief most strange and deep!
Still must thou live, and only live to weep!
Oh, lift thine aching head, thy languid eyes,
And mark what hideous stranger near thee lies.
“Guard me, all blessed saints!”—A monster child
Press’d her green couch; and, as it grimly smiled,
Its shaggy limbs, and eyes of sable fire,
Betray’d the crime, and claim’d its hellish sire!
“Lost! lost! My soul is lost!” the affrighted maid,