TO R.H., ON HER DEPARTURE FOR LONDON.
(For the Mirror.)
"Alas for me! false hearts I've found, where I had deem'd them true,
And stricken hopes lie all around where'er I turn my view;
Yet it may be, when far remov'd, the voice of memory
May yet remind thee how we lov'd, with its reproving sigh."
Anonymous.
Farewell! farewell! a sad farewell!
'Tis fate's decree that we should part;
Forebodings strange my bosom tell,
That others now will pain thy heart:
If so, calm as the waveless deep,