 | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly |  |
38
XLVI.
A few rude boards are now her beauty's bed;Her still and roseless cheek has now no veil
But one long, dripping lock across it shed;
Yet her wide eye looks living. Oh! the tale
Told there—of reason that began to fail,
Of wild remorse, of the last agony,
When wandering, desperate, in the midnight gale,
She flung to sightless heaven her parting cry,
Then in the dark wave plunged, to struggle and to die.
| The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly | |