Become a prey to each high swelling wave,
My ev’ry hope of happiness is lost——
Laid in the silent, solitary grave!
No more, O death! thy pointed shafts I dread!
Thy keenest darts I hourly wish to share;
Since my lov’d Henry’s number’d with the dead,
Nought in this world can now engage my care!
Ah! what to me avails the radiant sky,
The verdant meadow, or the vocal grove?
No kind companion shares the melting joy,