It Were Dishonouring Now

It were dishonouring now--or I Could weep in hopeless misery, O'er the dark tale, which links thy name To perfidy, and deepest shame; But never on my cheek shall be, The stain of one weak tear for thee; Though wildly throb my breast and brain, As if the very soul of pain Were in each pulse, no drop shall fall, Wrung forth by suff'ring, from these eyes: I shudder e'en but to recall The hours, when thou, unshar'd, had'st all My bosom's fondest sympathies.-- But now tis past--for ever past!-- I yet have strength to rend a part The firmest bonds that ever clasp'd Their fettering links around my heart; Yes, I have pow'r at least to be In spirit, as the Morning, free! I'd rather live the loneliest thing That earth upon its bosom bears, And pass, in silent sorrowing, A weary length of lingering years, Than give a hope, a thought to one Whose nobleness and truth are gone !-- And 'tis enough for me to know, That crime hath track'd thy steps,--that thou Hast o'er the young and happy, shed The curse which withers life away, And left, for fame and virtue fled, Remorse, and wretchedness to stay; That thou did'st, like the spoiler, come Where peace had made her hallow'd home, And change to ruin, and despair, All that was pure and holy there;-- That broken hearts, which bled too late, And early years made desolate, Have been thy fatal gifts to those, Who dar'd upon thy faith repose. Reproach is not for me !--thy doom, Without it is o'er-fraught with gloom, And grief, and bitterness--but yet, I would that we had never met; For ev'ry trace that's left of thee Upon the page of Memory, Will waken sorrow's mute excess For thy betray'd unworthiness.-- But be our parting brief!--'tis vain On moments such as this to dwell, When ev'ry pause is fill'd with pain, Until we breathe the last farewell.