The brand is on thy brow,

A dark and guilty spot;

‘Tis ne’er to be erased!

‘Tis ne’er to be forgot!

The brand is on thy brow!

Yet I must shade the spot:

For who will love thee now,

If I love thee not?

Thy soul is dark, — is stained; —

From out the bright world thrown;

By God and man disdained,

But not by me, — thy own!

Oh! even the tiger slain

Hath one who ne’er doth flee,

Who soothes his dying pain!

— That one am I to thee!