Orb of day, thus rising splendid,
Through the glowing realms of air!
Be thy course for once suspended,
For a message to my fair.
Two of thy bright rays be darted;
Let them, as the maid they greet,
Say, her lover, faithful-hearted,
Worships humbly at her feet.
He, of late so full of pleasure,
Tell her, now can scarce draw breath;
Living parted from his treasure,
He is like one sick to death.
Hour by hour, his pain enhancing,
Brings the final struggle near;
Death, with stealthy tread advancing,
Claims the spirit lingering here.
If he die, let her lament him;
Let her not forget the dead;
Let a message kind be sent him,
To the shores he now must tread.
If perchance where he is resting
In the cold and dreamless sleep, {411}
She should pass, her steps arresting,
One soft tear there let her weep.
These, dear Sun, for me repeating,
Then pursue thy brilliant way;
But the words of this sad greeting,
O forget them not, I pray!
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