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