"Though hard her couch, each sorrow flies
"The pillow which supports her head;
"She sleeps, nor fears at morn her eyes
"Shall wake, to mourn an husband dead.
"Hush, impious fears! the good and brave
"Heaven's arm will guard from danger free;
"When Death with thousands gluts the grave,
"His dart, my love, shall glance from thee:
"While thine shall fly direct and sure,
"This buckler every blow repell;
"This casque from wounds that face secure,
"Where all the loves and graces dwell.
"This glittering scarf, with tenderest care,
"My hands in happier moments wove;
"Curst be the wretch, whose sword shall tear
"The spell-bound work of wedded love!
"Lo! on thy faulchion, keen and bright,
"I shed a trembling consort's tears;
"Oh! when their traces meet thy sight,
"Remember wretched Eva's fears!
"Think, how thy lips she fondly prest;
"Think, how she wept, compelled to part;
"Think, every wound, which scars thy breast,
"Is doubly marked on Eva's heart!"
"O thou! my mistress, wife, and friend!"
Thus Agilthorn with sighs began;
"Thy fond complaints my bosom rend,
"Thy tears my fainting soul unman:
"In pity cease, my gentle dame,
"Such sweetness and such grief to join!
"Lest I forget the voice of Fame,
"And only list to Love's and thine.
"Flow, flow, my tears! unbounded gush!
"Rise, rise, my sobs! I set ye free;
"Bleed, bleed, my heart! I need not blush
"To own, that life is dear to me.
"The wretch, whose lips have prest the bowl,
"The bitter bowl of pain and woe,
"May careless reach his mortal goal,
"May boldly meet the final blow: