The stream in silence sang once more
And on its green bank, bathed in gore,
Augusta lay alone!

False Love! no earthly eye did see,
Yet heaven's pure eye regarded thee,
Where thy own Douglas bled;
How thou didst turn in mockery
From his last hopeless agony,
And leave the hungry hawk to be
Sole watcher of the dead!

Was it a deadly swoon?
Or was her spirit really gone?
And the cold corse beneath the moon
Laid like another mass of dust and stone?

The moon was full that night,
The sky was almost light like day;
You might have seen the pulses play
Upon her forehead white;

You might have seen the dear, dear light of life
In her uncovered eye;
And her cheek changing in the mortal strife
Betwixt the pain to live and agony to die.

But nothing mutable was there!