His mate, now sad abroad and grieving,
Flies from a distance home again,
Sits by her friend, with bosom heaving,
And bids him wake with sorrowing pain.
She sighs, she weeps, her spirits languish,
Around and round the spot she goes,
Ah! charming Chloe's lost in anguish,
Her friend wakes not from his repose!
LAURA'S PRAYER.
As the harp's soft sighings in the silent valley,
To high heaven reaching, lifts thy pious prayer,
Laura, be tranquil! again with health shall nourish
Thy loved companion.
O! ye gods, behold fair Laura sunk in anguish,
Kneeling, O! behold her on the grassy hill,
Mild evening's sportive zephyrs gently embracing
Her golden ringlets.
Glist'ning with tears, her sad eyes to you she raises,
Her fair bosom heaving like the swelling wave,
Whilst in the solemn grove echo, clothed in darkness,
Repeats her accents.
"O! gods, my friend beloved give again health's blessings,
Faded are her cheeks now, dull her once bright eye,
In her heart no pleasure,--killed by cruel sickness,
As by heat flowers.
"But if your hard laws should bid her quit existence,
Grant then my sad prayer, with her let me too die,"--
Laura, be tranquil! thy friend thou'lt see reviving
Like spring's sweet roses.
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