With suffering mind the maid her prospects view’d,
That hourly varied with the varying mood;
As past the day, the week, the month, the year, 320
The faint hope sicken’d, and gave place to fear.
No Cecil came!—“Come, peevish and unjust!”
Sad Ellen cried, “why cherish this disgust?
Thy Ellen’s voice could charm thee once; but thou
Canst nothing see or hear of Ellen now!”
Yes! she was right; the grave on him was closed,
And there the lover and the friend reposed.