Oh! Snatched Away In Beauty's Bloom, On

Most Glorious Night! Thou Wert Not Sent For Slumber!

But Quiet To Quick Bosoms Is A Hell.

Admire, Exult, Despise, Laugh, Weep For Here There Is Such Matter For All Feelings: Man! Thou Pendulum Betwixt A Smile And Tear.

Twas Twilight, And The Sunless Day Went Down Over The Waste Of Waters; Like A Veil, Which, If Withdrawn, Would But Disclose The Frown Of One Whose Hate Is Mask'd But To Assail.

Hatred Is The Madness Of The Heart.