shade 55
A dreary solitude, the mourner stray’d;
Her timid heart can now each danger dare,
Her drooping soul is arm’d by deep despair—­
Long, long she wander’d, till oppress’d with toil,
Her trembling footsteps track with blood the soil; 60
In vain with moans her distant lord she calls,
In vain the bitter tear of anguish falls;
Her moan expires along the desert wood,
Her tear is mingled with the crimson flood.

Where o’er an ample vale a mountain rose, 65
Low at its base her fainting form she throws;
“And here, my child, (she cried, with panting breath)
“Here let us wait the hour of ling’ring death: 
“This famish’d bosom can no more supply
“The streams that nourish life, my babe must die! 70
“In vain I strive to cherish for thy sake
“My failing strength; but when my heart-strings break,
“When my chill’d bosom can no longer warm,
“My stiff’ning arms no more enfold thy form,
“Soft on this bed of leaves my child shall sleep, 75
“Close to his mother’s corse he will not weep: 
“Oh weep not then, my tender babe, tho’ near,
“I shall not hear thy moan, nor see thy tear;
“Hope not to move me by thy piercing cry,
“Nor seek with searching look my answering eye.” 80
As thus the dying Cora’s plaints arose,
O’er the fair valley sudden darkness throws
A hideous horror; thro’ the wounded air
Howl’d the shrill voice of nature in despair;
The birds dart screaming thro’ the fluid sky, 85
And, dash’d upon the cliff’s hard surface die;
High o’er their rocky bounds the billows swell,
Then to their deep abyss affrighted fell;
Earth groaning heaves with dire convulsive throws,
While yawning gulphs her central caves disclose:  90
Now rush’d a frighted throng with trembling pace
Along the vale, and sought the mountain’s base;
Purpos’d its perilous ascent to gain,
And shun the ruin low’ring o’er the plain. 
They reach’d the spot where Cora clasp’d her child, 95
And gaz’d on present death with aspect mild;
They pitying paus’d—­she lifts her mournful eye,
And views her lord!—­he hears his Cora’s sigh—­
He meets her look—­their melting souls unite,
O’erwhelm’d, and agoniz’d with wild delight—­ 100
At length she faintly cried, “we yet must part! 
“Short are these rising joys—­I feel my heart
“My suff’ring heart is cold, and mists arise
“That shroud thy image from my closing eyes: 
“Oh save my child!—­our tender infant save, 105
“And shed a tear upon thy Cora’s grave”—­
The flutt’ring pulse of life now ceas’d to play,
And in his arms a pallid corse she lay: 
O’er her dear form he hung in speechless pain,
And still on Cora call’d, but call’d in vain; 110
Scarce could his soul in one short moment bear
The wild extreme of transport, and despair.