While on Orlando hung her every thought.
She sang the songs which once he had call'd sweet,
Cherish'd his favorite flowers, and oft would trace
The haunts his step had sought, and pour'd her soul
In faithful orisons for him to heaven.
Love for the absent, is as love that dwells
O'er the remembrance of the cherish'd dead;
The same deep feeling—kind, affectionate;
A veil thrown o'er each fault, a purer light
Around each virtue; now like relics priz'd;
'Tis the same feeling, save we do not mourn
With sorrow that can never solace know—
Save that we look with soothing confidence
To the blest moment, when we meet once more!
How we do love the absent! absence is
The moonlight of affection; then the heart,
Sheds o'er each thought a visionary charm,
A chastened pensive beauty; and the shade
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