Who had robb'd her of honour, and blasted her fame--
Did he think in that hour of the heart he had riven,
The vows he had broken, the anguish he'd given?--
And where was the infant whose birth gave the blow
To the peace of his mother, and madden'd her woe?
A thought rush'd across me--I ask'd for her child,--
With a wild laugh of triumph the maniac replied--
"'Where the dark tide runs strongest, the cliff rises steep,
Where the wild waters eddy, I've rock'd him to sleep:
His sleep is so sound that the rush of the stream,