Fierce roars the midnight storm br O'er the wild mountain, br Dark clouds the night deform, br Swift rolls the fountain-- br br See! o'er yon rocky height, br Dim mists are flying-- br See by the moon’s pale light, br Poor Laura's dying! br br Shame and remorse shall howl, br By her false pillow-- br Fiercer than storms that roll, br O'er the white billow; br br No hand her eyes to close, br When life is flying, br But she will find repose, br For Laura’s dying! br br Then will I seek my love, br Then will I cheer her, br Then my esteem will prove, br When no friend is near her. br br On her grave I will lie, br When life is parted, br On her grave I will die, br For the false hearted. br br DECEMBER, 1809.