But if observer pass, will take her round,
And careless seem, for she would not be found;
Then go again, and thus her hour employ,
While visions please her, and while woes destroy.
Forbear, sweet maid! nor be by fancy led
To hold mysterious converse with the dead;
For sure at length thy [thoughts'], thy [spirit's] pain
In this sad conflict will disturb thy brain.
All have their tasks and trials; thine are hard,
But short the time, and glorious the reward: