"But o'er the lasting gloom of love's despair,
"Can hope's bright ray its cheering visions shed?
"Can pity sooth the woes that breast must bear,
"Which vainly loves, and vainly mourns the dead!"
"No! ling'ring still, and still prolong'd, the moan
"Shall never pause, till heaves my latest breath,
"Till memory's distracting pang is flown,
"And all my sorrows shall be hush'd in death.
"And death is pitying come, whose hand shall tear
"From this afflicted heart the sense of pain;
"My fainting limbs refuse their load to bear,
"And life no longer will my form sustain.
"Yet once did health's enliv'ning glow adorn,
"And pleasure shed for me her loveliest ray,
"Pure as the gentle star that gilds the morn,
"And constant as the equal light of day!"
"Now those lost pleasures trac'd by memory, seem
"Like yon' illusive meteor's glancing light;
"That o'er the darkness threw its instant gleam,
"Then sunk, and vanish'd in the depth of night.
"My native vale! and thou delightful bower!
"Scenes to my hopeless love for ever dear;
"Sweet vale, for whom the morning wak'd her flow'r,
"Gay bower, for whom the evening pour'd her tear.
"I ask no more to see your beauties rise—
"Ye rocks and mountains, on whose rugged breast
"My Alfred, murder'd by Euphelia, lies,
"In your deep solitudes oh let me rest!"
"And sure the dawning ray that lights the steep,
"And slowly wanders o'er the purple wave;
"Will shew me where his sacred relics sleep,
"Will lead his mourner to her destin'd grave.—
O'er the high precipice unmov'd she bent,
A fearful path the beams of morning shew,
The pilgrim reach'd with toil the rude ascent,
And saw her brooding o'er the deep below.
"Euphelia stay! he cried, thy Alfred calls—
"Oh stay, my love! in sorrow yet more dear,
"I come!"—In vain the soothing accent falls,
Alas, it reach'd not her distracted ear.