And give thine aid when other help is vain.

When all is dark and still float softly near
The lattice of her chamber, and remain

To breathe thy message in her sleepless ear,

And in the weary night my widowed darling cheer.

LXXX.

Then on her lonely couch, thin, anguish-worn,
Watching and weeping still she sadly lies,

Pale as the waning moon that flies the morn

When first the sunbeams fire the eastern skies.

She slowly counts 'mid tears and deep-drawn sighs
The long long weary hours that used to be
Like moments, praying that the sun may rise

To chase the lingering night that wont to flee

Like a quick flash of joy when it was past with me.

LXXXI.

But should my love her weary eyelids close,

Lulled by sweet thoughts and many a hopeful sign,

Let not thy thunder break her soft repose,

Nor sudden bid her wreathing arms untwine

Lest in her dreams they should be clasping mine :
Still let such dreams her aching bosom bless:
Then, when the sunbeams on her lattice shine,
With thy deep-sounding words the dame address,
And thus my longing love and tender hope express :

LXXXII.

'O lonely mourner, from thy lord I speed,
And to his distant home fond greetings bear.
"Tis mine the exile's weary steps to lead

In safety back to soothe his bride's despair :
"Tis mine, with thunder rolling through the air,

To wake the sigh for all he left behind,

The well-loved cot and wife still weeping there ;

And urge his trembling fingers to unbind

The mourner's braid of hair for his long absence twined.

LXXXIII.

Thy faithful lord on Rama's wood-crowned hill

Mourns the sad lot that severs him from thee;

And in fond fancy he is with thee still
Though far away by hostile fate's decree.

W

Wasted with woe, he seems thy form to see
Worn, like his own, with tears that ever roll
From orbs that with his weeping eyes agree:
He feels the longing of thy kindred soul,

And counts thy sighs in those his breast can ne'er control.

LXXXIV.

He bids me now his loving message speak,

For far is he from all he holds most dear,

But O, what joy, might he but touch thy cheek

And softly whisper thus into thine ear :
'O peerless creature, in my prison here
Signs of thy beauty meet me every hour:
I see the graces of thy form appear

Faintly reflected in each fairest flower

That twines her tender shoots around my lonely bower.

LXXXV.

When from my path the startled roe-deer run,
Their eyes, sweet love, thy gentle glance recall:
The peacock's glories, gleaming in the sun,
Show like thy tresses glittering as they fall:

I see thine arching eyebrow in the small

Ripple upon the brook: the moon, Ah me!

Brings back thy pure pale cheek: in these, in all

The fairest sights that nature boasts, I see

Faint emblems of the charms that meet in none but thee.

LXXXVI.

Oft my love-guided hand essays to paint
Thy portrait on the rock with mineral dyes;
And soon as fancy fondly sees a faint
Resemblance of thy well-loved face arise,

I fall upon the ground with eager cries
Of transport but e'en here an envious veil
Fate interposes, and the vision flies;

Gone is the form I wildly thought to hail,

And dim with blinding tears my loving glances fail.

LXXXVII.

The spirits of the grove, believe me, weep

As I lie tossing on my lonely bed ;

Their pearly tears steal gently down, and steep

The green leaves that o'ercanopy my head,

As, in a dream of thee, they watch me spread
My arms, enlacing in their eager strain

Naught but the yielding air of night instead

Of that delicious form they would detain:

Then see me start and sigh and wake to woe again.

LXXXVIII.

A welcome herald from my darling comes

The breeze that from the snowy mountain springs,
Loaded with fragrance from the oozing gums
Of pine-buds rifled by its balmy wings :
To me it whispers such delicious things,
For it may be its breath has fondly played
Over my lady's bosom, whence it brings
Diviner fragrance, tenderly has laid

A kiss upon her lips, and fanned her in the shade.

LXXXIX.

But yield not, love, to dark despair, nor think
That changeless, never ending, is our doom,

Or in the strife thy gentle soul will sink:
Some friendly stars the moonless night illume,