No kind relief, no gleam of hope descried;
For now in front her trembling inmates see
The hills of Greece emerging on the lee—
So the lost lover views that fatal morn,
On which for ever from his bosom torn,
The maid adored resigns her blooming charms,
To bless with love some happier rival’s arms;
So to Eliza dawned that cruel day
That tore Æneas from her sight away,
That saw him parting never to return,