His Sister died of sadness!
But one remain’d their fate to tell,
For Jacob now was left alone,
And he, alas! was helpless grown,
And pin’d in moody madness.
At night, by moonshine would he stray,
Along the upland dreary;
And, talking wildly all the way,
Would fancy, ’till the Sun uprose,
That Heav’n, in pity, mark’d the woes—