day. I shall see you pass. I shall follow you with my eyes over the Heath. Will you come towards evening instead of before dinner? When you are gone, 'tis past--if you do not come till the evening I have something to look forward to all day. Come round to my window for a moment when you have read this. Thank your Mother, for the preserves, for me. The raspberry will be too sweet not having any acid; therefore as you are so good a girl I shall make you a present of it. Good bye
My sweet Love!
My dearest Fanny,
The power of your benediction is of not so weak a nature as to pass from the ring in four and twenty hours--it is like a sacred Chalice once consecrated and ever consecrate. I shall kiss your name and mine where your Lips have been --Lips! why should a poor prisoner as I am talk about such things. Thank God, though I hold them the dearest pleasures in the universe, I have a consolation independent of them in the certainty of your affection. I could write a song in the style of Tom Moore's Pathetic about Memory1____________________
There's not a look, a word of thine
My soul hath e'er forgot;
Thou ne'er hast bid a ringlet shine,
Nor given thy locks one graceful twine,
Which I remember not!
There never yet a murmur fell
From that beguiling tongue,
Which did not, with a lingering spell,
Upon my charmed senses dwell,
Like something Heaven had sung!
Ah! that I could, at once, forget
All, all that haunts me so--
And yet, thou witching girl!--and yet,
To die were sweeter than to let
The loved remembrance go!