270 



THE RING-DOVE'S LAMENT. 



Columba Palumbus. — (Linn.) 



Dear is my little native vale, 



The Ring-Dove builds and murmurs there. 



Rogers. 



Why, alas ! am I forsaken ? — 



If forsaken ? — Is it true 1 — 

 Still Affection will awaken 



Thoughts of Happiness and you ; — 



You — you — you I 



How have I in aught offended ? — 



With disdain why me pursue ? 

 Affection, with my being blended, 



Ever dwells, in thought, with you; — 



You— you — you. 



More professing you may find one, — 

 More imposing — not more true ; 



But a heart — where meet more kind one, 

 One that, e'er, will beat for you ? 



You — you — you . 



