IIENIIY KIEKE WHITE'S POEMS. 



Thus spake tlie maid, and from her finger dre\r 



A golden ring, and broke it quick in two; 



One half she in her lovely bosom hides, 



The other, trembling, to her love confides. 



" This bind the vow," she said, " this mystic diarm 



No future recantation can disarm, 



The rite vindictive does the fates involve, 



Xo tears can move it, no regrets dissolve." 



She ceased. The death-bird gave a dismal cry, 

 The river raoan'd, the wild gale whistled by. 

 And once again the lady of the night, 

 Behind a heavy cloud withdrew her light. 

 Trembling she viewed these portents with dismay : 

 But gently Bateman kiss'd her fears away : 

 Yet still he felt conceaVd a secret smart, 

 Still melancholy bodings fill'd his heart. 



When to the distant land the youth was sped, 



A lonely life the moody maiden led. 



Still would she trace each dear, each well-known walk. 



Still by the moonlight to her love would talk ; 



And fancy as she paced am.ong the trees, 



She heard his whispers in the dying breeze. 



Thus two years glided on, in silent grief; 

 The third, her bosom own'd the kind relief: 

 Absence had cooVd her love, — the impoverish'd flame 

 Was dwindling fast, when lo ! the tempter came ; 

 He offered wealth, and all the joys of life, 

 And the weak maid became another's Avife ! 



Six guilty months had mark'd the false one's crim.e, 

 When Bateman hail'd once more his native clime. 

 Sure of her constancy, elate he came, 

 The lovely partner of his soul to claim. 

 Light was his heart, as up the well known way 

 He bent his steps — and all his thoughts were gay. 

 Oh ! who can paint his agonizing throes, 

 When on his ear the fatal news arose. 



