Without a tear or a human sigh
She's gone,—poor life and its fever o'er!
So let her in calm oblivion lie;
While the world runs merry as heretofore?
"WITHIN.
"He who yon lordly feast enjoyeth,
He who doth rest on his couch of down,
He it was who threw the forsaken
Under the feet of the trampling town.
Liar—betrayer—false as cruel,