Beside thee through the beating storms of life,
With the true heart of unrepining love,
As the poor peasant's mate doth cheerily,
In the parch'd vineyard, or the harvest-field,
Bearing her part, sustain with him the heat
And burden of the day;—But now the hour,
The heavy hour is come, when human strength
Sinks down, a toil-worn pilgrim, in the dust,
Owning that woe is mightier!—Spare me yet
This bitter cup, my husband!—Let not her,
The mother of the lovely, sit and mourn
In her unpeopled home, a broken stem,
O'er its fall'n roses dying!
GONZALEZ.
Thou that through all sharp conflicts hast been found
Worthy a brave man's love, oh! urge me not
To guilt, which through the midst of blinding tears,
In its own hues thou seest not!— Death may scarce
Bring aught like this!
ELMINA.
The beautiful beings that around thee grew,
Creatures of sunshine! Wilt thou doom them all?
