While thus we hail the blaze with throats of joy.
Burn, fire, burn, while wondering Boys exclaim,
And gold and trinkets glitter in the flame.
Ah! look not thus on me, so grave, so sad;
Shake not your heads, nor say the Lady's mad.
Judge not of others, for there is but one
To whom the heart and feelings can be known.
Upon my youthful faults few censures cast.
Look to the future--and forgive the past.
London, farewell; vain world, vain life, adieu!
Take the last tears I e'er shall shed for you.
Young tho' I seem, I leave the world for ever,
Never to enter it again--no, never--never!"
* * * * *
3. The following letter was apparently written in the summer of 1812:
"You have been very generous and kind if you have not betray'd me, and I
do _not think you have_. My remaining in Town and seeing you thus is
sacrificing the last chance I have left. I expose myself to every eye,
to every unkind observation. You think me weak, and selfish; you think I
do not struggle to withstand my own feelings, but indeed it is exacting
more than human nature can bear, and when I came out last night, which
was of itself an effort, and when I heard your name announced, the
moment after I saw nothing more, but seemed in a dream. Miss Berry's
very loud laugh and penetrating eyes did not restore me. She, however,
[was] good natur'd and remain'd near me, and Mr. Moor (_sic_), though he
really does not approve one feeling I have, had kindness of heart to
stay near me.
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