"Alas, my love, I trembling hear "A father's last adieu; "I see, I see, the falling tear "His wrinkled cheek bedew. "He's gone, and here his ashes sleep-- "I do not heave a sigh, "His child a father does not weep-- "For, ah, my brain is dry! "But come, together let us rove, "At the pale hour of night; "When the moon wand'ring thro' the grove, "Shall pour her faintest light. "We'll gather from the rosy bow'r "The fairest wreaths that bloom: "We'll cull, my love, each op'ning flower, "To deck his hallow'd tomb. "We'll thither, from the distant dale, "A weeping willow bear; "And plant a lily of the vale, "A drooping lily there. "We'll shun the face of glaring day, "Eternal silence keep; "Thro' the dark wood together stray, "And only live to weep. "But hark, 'tis come--the fatal time "When, Edwin, we must part; "Some angel tells me 'tis a crime "To hold thee to my heart. "My father's spirit hovers near-- "Alas, he comes to chide; "Is there no means, my Edwin dear, "The fatal deed to hide? "Yet, Edwin, if th' offence be thine, "Too soon I can forgive; "But, oh, the guilt would all be mine, "Could I endure to live. "Farewel, my love, for, oh, I faint, "Of pale despair I die; "And see, that hoary, murder'd saint "Descends from yon blue sky. "Poor, weak old man! he comes my love, "To lead to heav'n the way; "He knows not heaven will joyless prove, "If Edwin here must stay!"-- "Oh, who can bear this pang!" he cry'd, Then to his bosom prest The dying maid, who piteous sigh'd, And sunk to endless rest. He saw her eyes for ever close, He heard her latest sigh, And yet no tear of anguish flows From his distracted eye. He feels within his shiv'ring veins, A mortal chillness rise; Her pallid corse he feebly strains-- And on her bosom dies. * * * * * No longer may their hapless lot The mournful muse engage; She wipes away the tears, that blot The melancholy page. For heav'n in love, dissolves the ties That chain the spirit here; And distant far for ever flies The blessing held most dear; To bid the suff'ring soul aspire A higher bliss to prove; To wake the pure, refin'd desire, The hope that rests above!-- A HYMN. While thee I seek, protecting Power! Be my vain wishes still'd; And may this consecrated hour With better hopes be fill'd. Thy love the powers of thought bestow'd, To thee my thoughts would soar; Thy mercy o'er my life has flow'd-- That mercy I adore. In each event of life, how clear, Thy ruling hand I see; Each blessing to my soul more dear, Because conferr'd by thee. In every joy that crowns my days, In every pain I bear, My heart shall find delight in praise, Or seek relief in prayer. When gladness wings my favour'd hour, Thy love my thoughts shall fill: Resign'd, when storms of sorrow lower, My soul shall meet thy will.