SONG. (The heavy hours are almost past)

The heavy hours are almost past That part my Love and me, My longing eyes may hope at last Their only wish to see.

But how, my Delia, will you meet The man you've lost so long? Will Love in all your pulses beat And tremble on your tongue?

Will you in ev'ry look declare Your heart is still the same; And heal each idly-anxious care Our fears in absence frame?

Thus, Delia, thus I paint the scene, When shortly we shall meet, And try what yet remains between Of loit'ring time to cheat.

But if the dream that sooths my mind Shall false and groundless prove; If I am doom'd at length to find You have forgot to love;

All I of Venus ask, is this; No more to let us join; But grant me here the flatt'ring bliss, To Die and Think you mine.