Sir Henry De Vaux came across the sea,
To visit his native clime;
A face like an angel of light had he,
But his heart was sear'd by crime.
He stood on his castle tow'r to gaze
O'er the scenes which he long had left,
And a thought came o'er him of happier days,
Ere his heart was of hope bereft.
The stream flow'd through that peaceful vale,
The birds sang to a cloudless sky,
And the calm around, and the soft fresh gale,
But encreased his agony.
A tear then fell from his dark proud eye,
A tear of remorse and regret;
'My will is a law,' he cried, 'then why
Cannot I learn to forget?'
'I have fought when the desperate sight ran high,
And the plain was dyed with blood;
I have sail'd when danger and death were nigh,'
But unmov'd, unappall'd, I stood.
I have drank of pleasure the fatal draught,
I have given to passion the rein;
With the scoffer I've scoff'd, with the infidel laugh'd,
And reason has warn'd me in vain.
Oh, the pain that I feel hath such deadly force,
That it strikes thro' my burning brain;
'Tis the pain of the soul-despair-remorse-
There is none can endure such pain.
'Tis the voice of an angry God that cries,
Till it harrows the mind within;
'Tis the worm of the heart that never dies,
'Tis the memory of sin.'