Julia's Murder; Or, The Song Of Woe Poem by Charlotte Dacre

What hast thou done, oh! wretch despairing?
Think with horror on thy crime;
Deep remorse, thy bosom tearing,
Ne'er must hope a balm from time.
Julia sweet! who could alarm her?
Fiends of hell could only harm her,
Lovely flow'r.

Ev'ry gale that wafts around thee
Shall Altona 'murd'ress' call;
Ev'ry whisper shall confound thee,
Ev'ry shadow shall appall.
Terror evermore pursue thee!
Guilt itself shall blush to view thee,
Murd'ress dire!

Julia's ghost shall rise to scare thee,
Sighing in the hollow wind,
'Cruel sister, oh! beware thee—
Swift destruction shalt thou find.'
Hope flies aghast whilst thou art here;
The sun forgets its power to chear,
Accurs'd of heaven!

Thy breath empoisons the sweet air;
Where'er thou step'st a blight is found;
Thine eyes the birds of Heaven scare—
Thou spread'st a pestilence around.
When thy with'ring breath is flown,
What hand so rash to place thy stone,
Disgrace of hell?

The fragrant earth would ne'er receive thee,
Disease would rise to blast mankind;
E'en ocean's waves alarm'd would leave thee,
And fearful o'er thee rush the wind.
For deeds of horror wert thou born,
To laugh all human guilt to scorn,
And curse the world.

Sin, rising from her cavern dark,
Shrinks appal'd, and howling flies,
And, trembling thy crimes to mark,
E'en palsied Horror shudd'ring dies.
Where'er thou art, despair is ours;
Shrunk and wither'd are the pow'rs
Of nature now.

Let this earth sink, and chaos come,
A new and spotless world arise,
For ages ne'er can steep in gloom
The guilt that for oblivion cries.
No time thy deed can fade away,
Its memory blasts the coming day,
And threats perdition.