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FLORA’S ALBUM. 

Bramble. 
“Wild bramble of the brake.” — ELLIOTT. 
REMORSE. 

But Pedro, at thet dreadful time, 
He, whose stern spirit, unreclaimed, 
Nor age has soothed, nor terror tamed, 
Felt all the errors of his crime. 
Heaven’s chastening vengeance touched his breast, 
And tears his deep remorse exprest, 
While o’er the victim’s dark-veiled brow 
Burst from his soul the voice of woe. 
WILLIAM SoTHEeBY. 
™ * * * 
Memory broods o’er me like a tempest cloud ; 
Where, on her lightning-wing, leaps vivid thought 
? t=} S a ? 
And dank remorse rolls rumblingly along 
gly 
m=) 
But miser-like withholds the gust of tears ! 
In anguish gathering up his strength, 
temorse ! 
remorse! he cried ; 
Remorse! engrave it with my name 
oO 
As to my fame allied. 
Mrs. Lockm 


