The Mountain Echo

At sad slow pace across the vale
There rode a horseman brave:
“Ah! travel I now to my mistress’s arms,
Or but to the darksome grave?”
The echo answer gave:
“The darksome grave!”

And farther rode the horseman on,
With sighs his thoughts express’d:
“If I thus early must go to my grave,
Yet in the grave is rest.”
The answering voice confess’d:
“The grave is rest!”

Adown the horseman’s furrow’d cheek
A tear fell on his breast:
“If rest I can only find in the grave,
For me the grave is best.”
The hollow voice confess’d:
“The grave is best!”