JUAN BAUTISTA DE ARRIAZA.
139
As these reflections by me file,
Rise griefs in like degree;
And thou, who knows, if thou the while
Wilt e'er ev'n think of me?
Then as I hours of glory call
Those when I thee beheld;
And of my griefs the sources all
When from thy sight repell'd;
A thousand times the thoughts enhance
The doom 't is mine to see,
Meanwhile who knows, if thou perchance
Wilt e'er ev'n think of me?
When in the heavens I view unfurl'd
The awful signs arise,
With which the Ruler of the world
Poor mortals terrifies;
When sounds are in the deepest caves
Of horrid thunderings nigh,
And of the seas the troubled waves
Rage furiously on high;
When by the south wind is impell'd
The proud Tyrrhenian main,
As if from its deep bosom swell'd
