To Laura In Death. Ballata I.

Amor, quando fioria.     HIS GRIEF AT SURVIVING HER IS MITIGATED BY THE CONSCIOUSNESS THAT SHE NOW KNOWS HIS HEART.         Yes, Love, at that propitious time     When hope was in its bloomy prime,     And when I vainly fancied nigh     The meed of all my constancy;     Then sudden she, of whom I sought     Compassion, from my sight was caught.     O ruthless Death! O life severe!     The one has sunk me deep in care,     And darken'd cruelly my day,     That shone with hope's enlivening ray:     The other, adverse to my will,     Doth here on earth detain me still;     And interdicts me to pursue     Her, who from all its scenes withdrew:     Yet in my heart resides the fair,     For ever, ever present there;     Who well perceives the ills that wait     Upon my wretched, mortal state.     NOTT.         Yes, Love, while hope still bloom'd with me in pride,     While seem'd of all my faith the guerdon nigh,     She, upon whom for mercy I relied,     Was ravish'd from my doting desolate eye.     O ruthless Death! O life unwelcome! this     Plunged me in deepest woe,     And rudely crush'd my every hope of bliss;     Against my will that keeps me here below,     Who else would yearn to go,     And join the sainted fair who left us late;     Yet present every hour     In my heart's core there wields she her old power,     And knows, whate'er my life, its every state!     MACGREGOR.