50
Stranger, does thy heart deplore
Friends whom thou wilt see no more;
Does thy wounded spirit prove
Pangs of hopeless, severed love?
Thee the stream that gushes clear,
Thee the birds that carol near,
Shall soothe, as silent thou dost lie,
And dream of their wild lullaby;
Come to bless these scenes of peace,
Where cares, and toil, and sadness cease! 60

Start from the feeble dream! The woodland shed
Flames, and the tenants of that vale are dead!
All dark the torrent of their fate hath rushed; 63
Each cheering echo of the plain is hushed;
And every joyous, every tender sound,
In the loud roaring of the night-storm drowned.
How cheerily the rocks, from side to side,
Oft to the tabor's festive sounds replied!
There, when the bells upon a holiday
Rang out, and all the villagers were gay, 70
In summer-time, the happy groups were seen;
Youth linked with beauty bounded on the green,
And age sat smiling, as the joyous train
Round the tall May-pole, tapering from the plain,
Their locks entwined with ribands streaming red,
And crowned with flowers, the rural pastimes led.
Oh! on the bleeding turf the sad flowers throw,
And weep for them that sleep in dust below;
There sleep together, in their deathbed cold,
The beautiful, the brave, the young, the old! 80
No voice is heard that charmed their earthly road:
Around their desolate and last abode
The blast that swept them to the earth yet raves,
And strews with havoc their insulted graves.
As on the lucid lake's unruffled breast
Soft silvery lights and blending shadows rest,
Above, around the heavens' blue calm is spread,
And sleeps the sunshine on the mountain's head;
Then purple rocks and woods smile to the eye,
Like fairy landscapes of the evening sky; 90
And all is sad, save where some forest bird,
With small and solitary trill, is heard.
Sudden the scene is changed, the hurricane
Is up among the mountains, wind and rain
Drive, and strange darkness closes on the vale;
And high rocks to the lightning glimmer pale;
And nought is heard but the deep thunder's roar, 97
Or vultures screaming round the desert shore.
So mourns the prospect, changed