THE
Absence
of
the
Beloved
.
I.
COME
,
lead
me
to
some
lofty
Shade
Where
Turtles
moan
their
Loves
;
Tall
Shadows
were
for
Lovers
made
,
And
Grief
becomes
the
Groves
.
II
.
Tis
no
mean
Beauty
of
the
Ground
That
has
inslav'd
mine
Eyes
,
I
faint
beneath
a
Nobler
Wound
,
Nor
love
below
the
Skies
.
III
.
Jesus
the
Spring
of
all
that's
bright
,
The
Everlasting
Fair
,
Heavens
Ornament
and
Heavens
Delight
Is
my
Eternal
Care
.
IV
.
But
,
ah
!
how
far
above
this
Grove
Does
the
dear
Charmer
dwell
?
Absence
,
that
keenest
Wound
to
Love
,
That
sharpest
Pain
I
feel
.
V.
Pensive
I
climb
the
Sacred
Hills
,
And
near
him
vent
my
Woes
,
Yet
his
sweet
Face
he
still
conceals
,
Yet
still
my
Passion
grows
.
VI
.
I
murmur
to
the
hollow
Vale
,
I
tell
the
Rocks
my
Flame
,
And
bless
the
Eccho
in
her
Cell
That
best
repeats
his
Name
.
VII
.
My
Passion
breaths
perpetual
Sighs
Till
pitying
Winds
shall
hear
,
And
gently
bear
them
up
the
Skies
,
And
gently
wound
his
Ear
.