FROM C HATEAUBRIAND .

'T IS midnight, and you sleep;
You sleep, and I — I am about to die!
What do I say? Perhaps you watch and weep —
For whom? Hell's friendlier tortures I will try.

To-morrow, when upon your lover's arm
Satiate with joy in search of change you go,
Lean for a moment from the bridge, and see
How calm these waters flow.