A dirge is rising on the mountain-air,
Whose fitful swells its plaintive murmurs bear
Far o’er the Alpuxarras;—wild its tone,
And rocks and caverns echo, “Thou art gone!”
“Daughter of heroes! thou art gone
To share his tomb who gave thee birth:
Peace to the lovely spirit flown!
It was not form’d for earth.
Thou wert a sunbeam in thy race,
Which brightly pass’d and left no trace.