Lament X

My dear delight, my Ursula, and where     Art thou departed, to what land, what sphere?     High o'er the heavens wert thou borne, to stand     One little cherub midst the cherub band?     Or dost thou laugh in Paradise, or now     Upon the Islands of the Blest art thou?     Or in his ferry o'er the gloomy water     Does Charon bear thee onward, little daughter?     And having drunken of forgetfulness     Art thou unwitting of my sore distress?     Or, casting off thy human, maiden veil,     Art thou enfeathered in some nightingale?     Or in grim Purgatory must thou stay     Until some tiniest stain be washed away?     Or hast returned again to where thou wert     Ere thou wast born to bring me heavy hurt?     Where'er thou art, ah! pity, comfort me;     And if not in thine own entirety,     Yet come before mine eyes a moment's space     In some sweet dream that shadoweth thy grace.