THE
ILL-FATED
LOVER
On
Alpin's
mount
,
by
Celin's
stream
,
Alvira
spent
the
day
,
While
Orpheus
tun'd
his
oaten
reed
To
some
enchanting
lay
.
This
couple
lov'd
,
yes
dearly
lov'd
,
Beyond
the
power
of
tongue
,
Beyond
the
very
reach
of
thought
,
Tho'
they
were
poor
and
young
.
Sweet
were
their
looks
,
and
kind
their
words
,
No
thought
was
e'er
conceal'd
,
Whatever
wish
Alvira
form'd
To
Orpheus
was
reveal'd
.
In
early
years
,
they
both
were
left
On
distant
hills
alone
;
Their
cave
was
cover'd
o'er
with
moss
,
And
at
the
door
a
stone
.
The
fruits
which
fed
the
little
birds
Did
nature's
want
supply
,
And
sweetly
Celin's
stream
they
drank
,
Whenever
they
were
dry
.
The
skins
of
beasts
that
Orpheus
slew
Did
serve
them
both
for
cloaths
;
As
valiant
heroes
often
wear
The
armour
of
their
foes
.
Once
as
they
took
an
evening
walk
,
With
sighs
Alvira
said
;
Alas
!
how
helpless
should
I
be
,
Dear
youth
,
if
thou
wert
dead
.
The
thought
like
lightning
struck
his
heart
,
He
clasp'd
her
to
his
breast
;
We
are
but
one
,
delightful
maid
,
So
keep
thy
mind
at
rest
.
Like
that
first
fair
in
Eden
form'd
,
Thou
art
to
Orpheus
giv'n
;
And
,
blest
with
thee
,
he
asks
no
more
.
He
seeks
no
higher
Heav'n
.
Could
eagles
soar
without
their
wings
,
And
almost
reach
the
skies
?
And
could
thy
Orpheus
view
one
joy
,
Without
Alvira's
eyes
?
Adieu
,
my
love
,
short
while
we
part
,
To
slay
a
bear
I
go
.
Night
coming
on
,
he
lost
his
way
In
hills
o'erlaid
with
snow
.
Trembling
and
faint
he
wander'd
long
,
To
seek
his
little
cave
,
Till
,
falling
from
the
mountain
brow
,
He
found
an
early
grave
.
Alvira
glean'd
the
shady
wood
,
To
make
a
cheerful
blaze
,
That
,
when
he
weary
should
return
,
His
spirits
it
might
raise
.
The
finest
fruits
were
all
prepar'd
To
make
her
Orpheus
smile
;
The
cave
with
shells
she
deck'd
around
,
His
absence
to
beguile
.
At
length
,
quite
tir'd
and
anxious
grown
,
His
stay
she
greatly
fear'd
;
So
spent
the
night
in
painful
thought
,
Till
morning
rays
appear'd
.
O'er
hill
and
dale
,
at
early
dawn
,
She
run
in
wild
despair
,
Till
waving
'mong
the
chilly
snow
Appear'd
his
golden
hair
.
She
view'd
the
eyes
where
honour
beam'd
,
Now
fix'd
in
speechless
gaze
;
And
pale
and
parch'd
the
coral
lips
That
wont
to
ring
her
praise
.
The
dimpl'd
cheek
was
wan
and
cold
,
Nor
vied
with
roses
more
;
No
smiling
feature
could
she
trace
,
That
warm'd
her
heart
before
.
All
mangled
,
bleeding
on
the
plain
,
Distorted
with
the
blast
,
She
gaz'd
till
death
bedimm'd
her
sight
,
Then
fell
and
breath'd
,
her
last
.