I saw her on the bridal night:
Rich jewels decked her hair;
But in her eye—once sparkling bright—
I marked a yearning care.
Before the altar, side by side,
Without a smile or word,
They stood—the bridegroom and the bride—
The victim and her lord!

Upon her cold and pallid brow
There hung a single gem;
It needed but her passive vow
To gain a diadem!
That vow was uttered—still the bride
Before the altar stands;
With heightened form and seeming pride,
She listens to the banns.

Her hair fell o'er her angel face,
In glowing wreaths of jet;
Upon her head, her lord would place
His jewelled coronet.
Why shrank she back? A stolid look
His guilty eye did meet;
He gazed—the tightened heart-strings broke—
A corpse was at his feet!

In haste around the prostrate bride
Her lord's attendants crowd,
And scores of friends are at her side
With notes of pity loud.
They loose her robe—the star has set!
Her shining locks they part—
Her temples chafe—but all too late—
The wound's A BROKEN HEART !