Too fast the strong tide rush’d—the sudden shame,
The joy, th’ amaze! He bow’d his head—it fell
On the wrong’d bosom which had loved so well;
And love, still perfect, gave him refuge there—
His last faint breath just waved her floating hair.
MADELINE.
A DOMESTIC TALE.
“Who should it be?—Where shouldst thou look for kindness?
When we are sick, where can we turn for succour;
When we are wretched, where can we complain;