Classic Poem

BY THE SAME .

O L ISIDOR ! he said, and heav'd a sigh;
How shall my falt'ring tongue the tale reveal!
This melting heart now gushes from my eye,
That suppliant beauty could not teach to feel.

By pleasure lur'd, unable to controul,
She led me to the paths of vice and woe;
She bade remorse thus agonize my soul,
And taught these tears of penitence to flow.

Full in the smiles of prosp'rous fortune bless'd,
I sought a female partner of my youth;
And found a nymph in ev'ry virtue dress'd,
Her manners form'd by innocence and truth.

Youth's freshest bloom adorn'd her beauteous face,
Where, blended with the rose, the lily strove;
Attir'd in every mild, enchanting, grace,
That sweetens friendship, or that leads to love.

In sweetest sensibility array'd,
Tell me if charms like her's could fail to move?
And I, O heaven! ador'd the charming maid,
And vow'd eternal constancy and love.

But soon, alas! to guiltier pleasures born,
I left this bliss for vanity and pride;
Till, weary'd with my injuries and scorn,
O fatal crime! my Mariamne died!

Oh! would sweet heav'n forgive the faith I swore!
But sad repentance wrings my soul too late;
'Tis sacred justice bids me ask no more,
And points at injur'd Mariamne's fate.