230
And hatred, grief, and melancholy,
In either heart as idly sprung;
And yet they loved—and hate did wane,
And much they wished to meet again.
Of Richard still is Margaret dreaming;
His image lingered in her breast;
And oft at midnight, to her seeming,
Her former lover stood confest;
And shedding on her bosom tears,
The bitter wrecks of happier years.
Where'er he went, by land or ocean,
Still Richard sees dame Margaret there;
And every throb and kind emotion
His bosom knew were felt for her.
And never new love hath he cherished;
The power to love with first love perished.
Homeward is Clerke Richard sailing,
An altered man from him of old,
His hate had changed to bitter wailing,
And love resumed its wonted hold
