he bridegroom's cheek forsook:
He shook and stagger'd as he stood,
And falter'd as he spoke.

"So soft and fair I know a maid,
There is but only she;
A wretched man her love betrayed,
And wretched let him be."

Deep frowning, turn'd the bride's dark eye,
For bridal morn unmeet;
With trembling steps her lord did hie
The stranger fair to greet.

Tho' loose in scatter'd weeds array'd,
And ruffled with the storm;
Like lambkin from its fellows stray'd,
He knew her graceful form.

But when he spy'd her sunken eye,
And features sharp and wan,
He heav'd a deep and heavy sigh,
And down the big tears ran.

"Why droops thy head, thou lovely maid,
Upon thy hand of snow?
Is it because thy love betray'd,
That thou art brought so low?"

Quick from her eye the keen glance came
Who question'd her to see:
And oft she mutter'd o'er his name,
And wist not it was he.

Full hard against his writhing brows
His clenched hands he prest;
Full high his lab'ring bosom rose,
And rent its silken vest.

"O cursed be the golden price,
That did my baseness prove!
And cursed be my friends advice,
That wil'd me from thy love!

"And cursed be the woman's art,
That lur'd me to her snare!
And cursed be the faithless heart
That left thee to despair!

"Yet now I'll hold thee to my side,
Tho' worthless I have been,
Nor friends, nor wealth, nor dizen'd bride,
Shall ever stand between.

"When thou art weary and depress'd,
I'll lull thee to thy sleep;
And when dark fancies vex thy breast,
I'll sit by thee and weep.

"I'll tend thee like a restless child
Where'er thy rovings be;
Nor gesture keen, nor eye-ball wild,
Shall turn my love from thee.

"Night shall not hang cold o'er thy head,
And I securely lie;
Nor drizly clouds upon thee shed,
And I in covert dry.

"I'll share the cold blast on the heath,
I'll share thy wants and pain:
Nor friend nor foe, nor life nor death,
Shall ever make us twain."

THUNDER.

Spirit of strength, to whom in wrath 'tis given
To mar the earth, and shake the vasty heaven:
Behold the gloomy robes, that spreading hide
Thy secret majesty, lo! slow and wide,
Thy heavy skirts sail in the middle air,
Thy sultry shroud is o'er the noonday glare:
Th' advancing clouds sublimely roll'd on high,
Deep in their pitchy volumes clothe the sky;
Like hosts of gath'ring foes array'd in death,
Dread hangs their gloom upon the earth beneath,
It