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!