Betwixt her sorrows and her life:
Thy manly brothers strive to cure
In vain, the pangs themselves endure.
Fair Saint! a happier lot is thine
Repos’d beneath the silent shrine!
Now let me seek in pensive mood
The rude recesses of the wood;
And, where congenial gloom extends,
Think of lost hopes and distant friends;
Of scenes, whose pleasures fled too fast,