Dark was the night, and dreary was the scene,
when Julia sat to count the lonely hours,
hours that with Henry happy might have been,
but Henry's love subdued subdued love's pow'rs.
Dear was his wife, his children too were dear,
dearer the die, by which he was undone.
His tender mate, no partner but a tear,
anxiously expected him. The clock struck one.

In life's bright morn, when all around was gay,
when pleasure smil'd and sorrow was unknown,
with glad consent he led his bride away,
that matchless bride, whose heart was all his own.
A beauteous offspring now her care implored,
a drooping husband wanted comfort too;
how could he leave an object so adored
to watch the tedious night. The clock struck two.

Loud blew the wind and fast the torrent fell,
vainly to calm disquietude she strove.
Hark! steps advance, they sound the portal bell!
She ran, she flew to welcome home her love.
Awhile his presence chear'd; alas, how short;
he paused, he sigh'd, then started from the door;
she followed but to hear the dread report.
A pistol closed the scene. The clock struck four.