n's bright beams in brilliant glory rise,
To guide them wand'ring thro' the wat'ry plain,
Or land them on their native shores again;
Thus, Charlotte, I no other joy could see,
Than pass the vacant day, and gaze on thee,
Live in thy joys, or in thy sorrows die,
"And drink delicious poison from thine eye,"
As the lost insect round the taper flies,
And courts the fatal flame by which it dies.
But, Charlotte, now those fleeting joys are fled,
And Werter sinks among the silent dead
From the bright hopes of life forever gone,
His mem'ry lost, and e'en his name unknown,
The time shall come, when in the vacant mind,
The fondest friend no trace of me shall find;
When e'en my kindred my sad fate shall hear,
And view my mould'ring grave without a tear,
Think on the light impressions of the mind,
Which flee as midnight dreams, and leave no trace behind.
This eve I wander'd thro' each beauteous scene,
Each fertile valley, and each level green,
Pensive and sad I view'd the foaming flood;
And the wild winds disturb the silent wood.
Beheld the sun's great orb, in glory bright,
Descend behind the western surge in night;
While on the hill to see its beams, I stood,
And view'd it sinking in the briny flood,
I felt my heart with double sorrows prest,
And life's last hope desert my throbbing breast;
The world's vast scene forever clos'd from sight,
And all involv'd in one eternal night.
Ah! shall I ne'er again thy image know,
In these sad realms of misery and woe,
Or is there yet a place in heaven design'd,
For hapless mortals by th' eternal mind,
Some winding valley, or some shady grove,
Some blissful mansions in the realms above,
Where Charlotte's shade and mine may one day meet,
Our suff'rings ended and our bliss complete,
In the bright regions of eternal light,
Where all is perfect joy and pure delight.
When in the summer's eve you chance to stray
Thro' the low vale, or on the broad highway,
Or in the churchyard, thro' the shady trees,
You hear the whistling of the midnight breeze,
Wave high the grass, in solitary gloom,
Around the heap that shews thy lover's tomb--
Ah, then will you not one sad thought bestow,
On him who could no greater blessing know
Than pass the hour with fleeting joys with thee,
Gaze on thy charms an