Wretched Henry

Sweet Laura, see the fatal hour, Farewell, my soul's delight; But how shall wretched Henry live, Thus banish'd from thy sight To my fond heart no rival joys Supply the loss of thee; But who can tell, if thou my dear, Will e'er remember me.

Alone thro' unfrequented wilds, With pensive steps I rove; I ask the rocks, I ask the streams, Where dwells my absent love? The silent eve, the rosy morn, My constant search survey; But who can tell, if thou, my dear, Will e'er remember me.

Oft I'll review the smiling scene, Each fav'rite brook and tree, Where gaily pass'd the happy hours, Those hours I've pass'd with thee What painful fond memorials rise, From ev'ry place I see; But who can tell, if thou, my dear, Will e'er remember me.