not to feel a doubt of thee?—             This joy to find me still the same Takes from my lip the power to blame; Else, but forgive me, else I find A mist has stolen o'er thy mind, And veil'd my prospect; dimm'd that light Which once was warm, and clear, and bright.           

            

            

       XI.     

       TO THE SAME.     

             Go forth, my voice, through the wild air,           

             In the lone stillness of the night,           

             Beneath the cold moon's pale blue light;           

             Seek Eugenia, and declare,           

             As warmth and promise lurk below           

             A waste of lifeless, drifted snow;           

                        

             So, while my lips inertly move,           

             While many heavy fetters bind,           

             And press upon my languid mind,           

             Oh! tell her not to doubt my love!           

             Affection still her hold shall keep,           

             Although her weary servants sleep.           

                        

             Friendship to me is like a flower,           

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