Classic Poem

I FEEL once more thy Zephyrs wast perfume,
Sweet-smiling hill! where rov'd the beauteous fair,
My soul's first pleasure once, and now my care,
Stretch'd as she is in Night's eternal gloom.
O my fond foolish hopes! the flow'ry bloom
Is faded now, o'erhung the chearful air,
The vales, where erst she sung, are mute and bare;
My pleasing dwelling, and my destin'd tomb.
I hop'd at length in her delicious arms
From all my ills to find a calm repose,
And lose the mem'ry of my piteous harms:
A cruel lord I serv'd; since nought but woes
He gave, while yet I saw her heav'nly charms;
Now o'er her mould'ring dust my sorrow flows.