Alexandria Daily Gazette, Commercial & Political

Maria, fond maid, in the cold grave now
sleeping.
Soft, soft blows the gales, and the moon beams at night,
Gleam light o'er thy tomb, where the wild flowers creeping,
On a once gentle heart, and be gentle and light
For Maria was gay when she hail'd the fair morning
Of childhood, and heedless of sorrow to come.
The bright glow of health her cheeks were adorning,
A stranger to care, she would cheerfully roam
But many a rose has been nipt in the blossom
And wither'd, alas! ere its leaves could expand.
Poor Maria, the canker-worm entered her bosom:
And on her cruel death laid his cold wither'd hand.
In the grave, ah! she feels not the faithless affection
Of him who once promis'd a friendship sincere.
No longer distracted by mournful reflection
Of him who once lov'd her, and who was still dear:
Ah! why, fickle man--as the ocean unstable,
Think; think on the victim who languish'd for thee;
Reflect, for a moment, to think thou ne'er able,
From pain and from sorrow that victim to free.
Go visit her grave, while the lingering moon
Gleams light o'er a breast thou hast render'd forlorn;
Low, low in the tomb, lies the once lov'd one:
Ah! weep, faithless man, that she ever was born.
On the green flow'ry turf now, now shed the tear
Of soft pity that once was denied to her:
Let mem'ry now soften that heart which was cold
Than the clay cold remains of thy once promis'd pride.