The only agitated object near?
Oh! tell me, too, thou babbling cold cascade!
Whose waters, falling thro' successive shade,
Unspangled by the brightness of the sky,
Awake each echo to a soft reply,--
Say, canst thou not my bosom-grief befriend,
And bid one drop upon my heart descend?
When all thy songsters soothe themselves to sleep.
Ah! must these aching eyes for ever weep?
And must their frequent waters, like thine own,
Drop, idly drop, on unimpressive stone?
Or, when my beauteous fair shall deign to grace
The humid foliage of thy mossy base,
Canst thou not tell how many a rock below
Impedes to kiss thy waters as they flow?
In _her_ mind canst thou not the feeling rear
To stop, or thus caress, each genuine tear?

Teach her, oh! teach her, then, thou cold cascade!
Pour all thy lessons for the lovely maid!
And thou, bless'd grotto! let thy silence prove
Her mute consenting answer to my love!
And thou, bright river! as thou roll'st along,
Bear on thy wand'ring wave a lover's song!
Strong as thy current, as thy waters pure,
Teach her to feel the passion I endure!