While she was absent from the bough she loved,—
And pours her grief in sweetest melody,
Filling the air with passionate complaint,
Amidst the silence of the gloomy night,
Calling on heaven and heaven’s pure stars
To witness her great wrong;—so I am yielded up
To misery, and mourn, in vain, that Death
Should thrust his hand into my inmost heart,
And bear away, as from its nest and home,
The love I cherished with unceasing care![784]