[Song.]

[SONG.]

WHERE dost thou bide, blessed soul of my love! Is ether thy dwelling, O whisper me where! Rapt in remembrance, while lonely I rove, I gaze on bright clouds, and I fancy thee there.

Or to thy bower when musing I go, I think, 't is thy voice that I hear in the breeze; Softly it seems to speak peace to my woe, And life once again for a moment can please.

If this be phrensy alone, 't is so dear, That long may the pleasing delusion be nigh; Still Ellen's voice in the breeze may I hear, Still see in bright clouds the kind beams of her eye!