Hid in his wing his beak and wept;
There ceased his sorrows to pursue him,
The little dove for ever slept.
His mate, now sad abroad and grieving,
Flies from a distant home again,
Sits by her friend, with bosom heaving,
And bids him wake with sorrowing pain.
She sighs, she weeps, her spirits languish,
Around and round the spot she goes;
Ah! charming Chloe’s lost in anguish,