IN clouds drew on the evening's close,
Which cross the west in ranges stood,
As pensive GERTRUDE sought the wood,
And there the darkest thicket chose;
While from her eyes amid the wild briar flows
A sad and briny flood.
Dark o'er her head
Roll'd heavy clouds, while showers,
Pefum'd by summer's wild and spicy flowers,
Their ample torrents shed.