The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
Enter CAMILLA.
My lov'd Hermione, I heard thy sigh,
And left my sleep to soften thy affliction.
Why killest thou that gentle frame with weeping?
Sorrowing, thou seemest to delight in woe,
And feed existence upon sighs and tears.
HERMIONE.
Camilla, the dread silence of the hour
Suits but too well the colour of my soul.
Night, who to others brings the balm of sleep,
And happy dreams to sooth the peaceful breast,
Pours on my wakeful eye, far diff'rent guests;
The foulest, darkest demons of despair.
Lorn, at the midnight hour, when all is hush'd,
I wander restless; sadly now I sit,
My brimfull eyes for hours both motionless,
Swimming with woe, towards the passing moon,
Who on me, as she lonely glides along,
Casts a pale beam of melancholy light,
That seems a ray of pity on my fate.
My lov'd Hermione, I heard thy sigh,
And left my sleep to soften thy affliction.
Why killest thou that gentle frame with weeping?
Sorrowing, thou seemest to delight in woe,
And feed existence upon sighs and tears.
HERMIONE.
Camilla, the dread silence of the hour
Suits but too well the colour of my soul.
208
And happy dreams to sooth the peaceful breast,
Pours on my wakeful eye, far diff'rent guests;
The foulest, darkest demons of despair.
Lorn, at the midnight hour, when all is hush'd,
I wander restless; sadly now I sit,
My brimfull eyes for hours both motionless,
Swimming with woe, towards the passing moon,
Who on me, as she lonely glides along,
Casts a pale beam of melancholy light,
That seems a ray of pity on my fate.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |