XXIII
And now her charms are fading fast,Her spirits now no more are gay:Alas! that beauty cannot last!That flowers so sweet so soon decay!How sad appearsThe vale of years,How changed from youth's too flattering scene!Where are her fond admirers gone?Alas! and shall there then be noneOn whom her soul may lean?
Cynthia's Grave.
The walls of the cottage were all that was left of the building; and these, blackened by smoke, and stripped of their piazzas and ornaments, were but dreary memorials of the content and security that had so lately reigned within. The roof, together with the rest of the woodwork, had tumbled into the cellars, and a pale and flitting light, ascending from their embers, shone faintly through the windows. The early flight of the Skinners left the dragoons at liberty
