Thus silent, musing through the day, he sees
His children sporting by those lofty trees,
Their mother singing in the shady scene,
Where the fresh springs burst o’er the lively green; -
So strong his eager fancy, he affrights
The faithful widow by its powerful flights;
For what disturbs him he aloud will tell,
And cry - “’Tis she, my wife! my Isabel!
Where are my children?” - Judith grieves to hear
How the soul works in sorrows so severe;