OH, LETHE'S STREAM!
I
Oh, Lethe's stream! too tempting fable,
I sigh in vain thy sweets to sip;
I yet might smile, were I but able,
In thy dark wave to bathe my lip.
Oblivion come! each relic stealing,
That mem'ry shrines from thy chill breath—
Say—where shall grief forget the feeling
That wounds her heart?—in death! in death!
II
Oh, Lethe's stream! thy torrent flows not,
To charm the bowl where pleasure dwells;
Oh, Lethe's stream! sad monks repose not
Beside thy brink, in convent cells;
Lift sable cowl—or blooming flowers,
Thou'lt find that mem'ry sighs beneath;
Say—where shall grief forget the bowers
Where she was blest?—in death! in death!
