Tho', Julia, we are doom'd to part,
Tho' unknown pangs invade this heart,
For thee the light of love shall burn,
To thee my soul in secret turn:
Upon this bosom, swell'd with care,
The thought of thee shall tremble there
'Till Time shall close these weeping eyes,
And close the soothing source of sighs.
So, in the silence of the night,
Shines on the wave the lunar light;
With its soft image, bright, imprest,
It heaves, and seems to know no rest:
Its agitation soon is o'er;
It sighs, and dies along the shore!