  BY MAYNE REID.Adieu! oh, in the heart's recess how wildly Echo those painful accents of despair— And spite our promise given to bear it mildly; We little knew how hard it was to bear A destiny so dark: how hard to sever Hearts linked as ours, hands joined as now I grasp thee In trembling touch: oh! e'er we part forever, Once more unto my heart love's victim let me clasp thee! It is my love's last echo—lone and lonely My heart goes forth to seek another shrine, Where it may worship pronely, deeming only Such images as thee to be divine— It is the echo of the last link breaking, For still that link held out while lingering near thee— A secret joy although with heart-strings aching To breathe the air you breathed—to see, to hear thee. And this link now must break—our paths obliquing May never meet again—oh! say not never— For while thus speaking, still my soul is seeking Some hope our parting may not be forever— And like the drowning straggler on the billow, Or he that eager watches for the day, With throbbing brain upon a sleepless pillow— 'Tis catching at the faintest feeblest ray. Now faint and fainter growing, from thee going, Seems every hope more vague and undefined— Oh! as the fiend might suffer when bestowing A last look on the heaven he left behind: Or as earth's first-born children when they parted Slowly, despairingly, from Eden's bowers, Looked back with many a sigh—though broken-hearted, Less hopeless was their future still than ours. If we have loved—if in our hearts too blindly We have enthroned that element divine— In this, at least, hath fate dealt with us kindly; Our mutual images have found a shrine— An altar for our mutual sacrifice: And spite this destiny that bids us sever, Within our hearts that fire never dies— In mine, at least, 'twill burn and worship on forever. Thee not upbraiding—thou has not deceived me— For from the first I knew thy compromise— No, Guadalupe—this hath never grieved me— I won thy love—so spoke thy lips and eyes:— The consolation of this proud possessing Should almost change my sorrow into bliss: I have thy heart—enough for me of blessing— Another may take all since I am lord of this. Why we have torn our hearts and hands asunder— Why we have given o'er those sweet caresses— The world without will coldly guess and wonder— Let them guess on, what care we for their guesses! The secret shall be ours, as ours the pain— A secret still unheeding friendship's pleading: What though th' unfeeling world suspect a stain, But little fears the world a heart with anguish bleeding. 'Tis better we should never meet again— Our love's renewing were but thy undoing: When I am gone, time will subdue thy pain, And thou wilt yield thee to another's wooing— For me, I go to seek a name in story— To find a future brighter than the past— Yet 'midst my highest, wildest dreams of glory, Sweet thoughts of thee will mingle to the last. And though this widowed heart may love another— For living without love, it soon would die— There will be moments when it cannot smother Thy sweet remembrance with a passing sigh. Amidst the ashes of its dying embers For thee there will be found one deathless thought; Yes, dearest lady! while this heart remembers, Believe me, thou shall never be forgot. Once more farewell! Oh it is hard to yield thee, To lose for life, forever, thing so fair! How bright a destiny it were to shield thee— Yet since I am denied the husband's care, This grief within my breast here do I smother— Forego thy painful sacrifice to prove, That I have been, what never can another, The hero of thy heart, my own sweet victim love.
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