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When he came back to claim her--well,
She was dead in the arms of her lover--
Claspt tight in his mad embrace;--
With her life-blood staining her tresses,
And a sad, sweet smile on her face.
I heard the last words that she uttered--
"My love! tell my father I tried
To do what was best for his honour;
For you and for him I have died."


A SONG FOR THE END OF THE SEASON.
BY J.R. PLANCHE.
(_FROM THE "DRAMATIC COLLEGE ANNUAL."_)

Sir John has this moment gone by
In the brougham that was to be mine,
But, my dear, I'm not going to cry,
Though I know where he's going to dine.
I shall meet him at Lady Gay's ball
With that girl to his arm clinging fast,
But it won't, love, disturb me at all,
I've recovered my spirits at last!
I was horribly low for a week,
For I could not go out anywhere
Without hearing, "You know they don't speak;"
Or, "I'm told it's all broken off there.


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