THE HECTIC.

Upon the breezy cliff's impending brow,

With trembling step, the Hectic paus'd awhile;

As round his wasted form the sea-breeze blew,

His flush'd cheek brighten'd with a transient smile:

Refresh'd and cherish'd by its balmy breath,

He dreamt of future bliss, of years to come;

Whilst, with a look of woe, the spectre, Death,

Oft shook his head, and pointed to his tomb.

Such sounds as these escap'd his lab'ring breast:—

“Sweet Health! thou wilt revisit this sad frame;

Slumber shall bid these aching eyelids rest,

And I shall live for love, perchance for fame.”

Ah! poor enthusiast!— in the day's decline

A mournful knell was heard, and it was thine!