Her soul shrinks, fainting, from death's icy dart,
The groan scarce uttered, dies, but half expressed,
And down she sinks in deadly swoon oppressed:
But when at length, awaking from her trance,
The terrors of her fate stood all confessed,
In vain she casts around her timid glance,
The rudely frowning scenes, her former joys enhance.
"No traces of those joys, alas! remain;
A desert solitude alone appears.
No verdant shade relieves the sandy plain,