Hark! hark! hark! hark! what doleful sounds I hear,
Mourning along the distant vale,
Which fall on fancy's startled ear,
And all his shiv'ring pow'rs assail.
That calls to bear thee, WATERS, to the tomb!
To murmur out her pensive lay;
In what sad accents mourn the date,
That gave thee to relentless fate.
Hark! hark! hark! the mourners sighs, and cries,
And moans, and groans, salute mine ears,
while deep responses round them rise,
As thus they vent their woes in tears,
WATERS farewell! WATERS farewell! WATERS farewell!
O, the anguish! Thrilling thro' my bleeding breast,
Ah1 when shall I cease to languish,
And like you enjoy my rest,
And like you enjoy my rest!
Mourners said the guardian spirits,)
Dry your tears; your griefs remove;
WATERS lives and free inherits,
Lasting bliss in realms above.