A noble sorrow, cherish’d to the last,
When every meaner woe had long been past.
Yes! let affection weep—no common tear
She sheds when bending o’er a hero’s bier.
Let nature mourn the dead—a grief like this,
To pangs that rend my bosom, had been bliss!”
“High-minded maid! the time admits not now
To plead my cause, to vindicate my vow.
That vow, too dread, too solemn, to recall,
Hath urged me onward, haply to my fall.