‘The verse adorn again Fierce War, and faithful Love, And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest. In buskin’d measures move Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain, With Horrour, Tyrant of the throbbing breast. A voice as of the Cherub-Choir Gales from blooming Eden bear; And distant warblings lessen on my ear, That lost in long futurity expire. Fond impious Man, think’st thou, yon sanguine cloud Raised by thy breath, has quench’d the orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me: with joy I see The different doom our fates assign: Be thine Despair and sceptred Care, To triumph, and to die, are mine.’ —He spoke, and headlong from the mountain’s height Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
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Where shall the lover rest, Whom the fates sever From his true maiden’s breast, Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and high, Sounds the far billow, Where early violets die, Under the willow.
CHORUS Eleu loro, &c. Soft shall be his pillow.
There, through the summer day, Cool streams are laving; There, while the tempests sway, Scarce are boughs waving; There, thy rest shalt thou take, Parted for ever, Never again to wake, Never, O never!
CHORUS Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never!
Where shall the traitor rest, He, the deceiver, Who could win maiden’s breast, Ruin, and leave her? In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war’s rattle With groans of the dying.