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THE BROKEN' HEART. 
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127 
was assisted by her conviction of his worth, and 
her sense of her own destitute and dependent sit¬ 
uation, for she was existing on the kindness of 
friends. In a word, he at length succeeded in 
gaining her hand, though with the assurance that 
her heart was unalterably another’s. 
He took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a 
change of scene might wear out the remembrance 
of early woes. She was an amiable and exempla¬ 
ry wife, and made an effort to be a happy one ; 
but nothing could cure the silent and devouring 
melancholy that had entered into her very soul. 
She wasted in a slow and hopeless decline, and at 
length sunk into the grave, the victim of a broken 
heart. 
It was on her that Moore, the distinguished 
Irish poet, composed the following lines: — 
She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, 
And lovers around her are sighing ; 
But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, 
For her heart in his grave is lying. 
He had lived for his love — for his country he died ; 
They were all that to life had entwined him ; 
Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, 
Nor long will his love stay behind him! 
O, make her a grave where the sunbeams rest, 
When they promise a glorious morrow ; 
They’ll shine o’er her sleep like a smile from the west, 
From her own loved island of sorrow ! w tnvix-a 
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