"The sacred lore o'weel-plac'd love,
Luxuriantly indulge it;
But never tempt th' illicit rove,
Tho' naething should divulge it:
I wave the quantum o' the sin,
The hazard of concealing;
But och! it hardens a' within,
And petrifies the feeling."
"Is it indeed so?" "Alas! then, what will become of me?" "Calantha, your destiny is fixed," he cried, suddenly starting as if from deep thought; "there is a gulph before you, into which you are preparing to plunge. I would have saved you—I tried; but cannot. You know not how to save yourself. Do you think a momentary pause, a trifling turn, will prevent the fall? Will you now fly me? now that you are bound to me, and the fearful forfeiture is paid? Oh turn not thus away:—look back at the journey you have taken from innocence and peace: and fear to tread the up-hill path
