She sat, oppress’d with cruel care,
And bow’d with agonizing pain,
And the cold sceptre of despair
Lay where her dearest hopes had lain;
And bitter drops, from Marah’s spring,
Bedew’d the pale rose on her cheek,
And fierce disease was torturing
Her vitals with a vulture’s beak:
And taunting words were in her ears—
“Thou first in sin! Frail cause of all