Kapnist.

The evening darkness shrouds The slumbering world in peace, And from her throne of clouds Shines Luna through the trees. My thoughts in silence blend, But gather’d all to thee: Thou moon! the mourner’s friend, O come! and mourn with me. Upon her grave I bow, The green grave where she lies: O hear my sorrows now, And consecrate my sighs! This is her ashes’ bed— Here her cold relics sleep— Where I my tears shall shed While this torn heart can weep. O Julia! never rose Had half the charms of thee— My comfort—my repose— O! thou wert all to me. But thou art gone—and I Must bear life’s load of clay— And pray—and long to die— Though dying day by day. But I must cease to sing, My lyre all mute appears— Alas! its plaintive string Is wetted with my tears. O! misery’s song must end— My thoughts all fly to thee:— Thou moon! the mourner’s friend, O come and mourn with me!