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Then, first awaking from his mournful trance,
The wretched Capac cast an eager glance
On his lov'd babe; th' unconscious infant smil'd,
And showers of softer sorrow bath'd his child.
The hollow voice now sounds in fancy's ear, 125
She sees the dying look, the parting tear,
That sought with anxious tenderness to save
That dear memorial from the closing grave:
He clasps the object of his love's last care,
And vows for him the load of life to bear; 130
To rear the blossom of a faded flower,
And bid remembrance sooth each ling'ring hour.
He journey'd o'er a dreary length of way,
To plains where freedom shed her hallow'd ray;
O'er many a pathless wood, and mountain hoar, 135
To that fair clime her lifeless form he bore.
Ye who ne'er suffer'd passions hopeless pain,
Deem not the toil that sooths its anguish vain;
Its fondness to the mould'ring corse extends,
Its faithful tear with the cold ashes blends. 140
Perchance, the conscious spirit of the dead
Numbers the drops affection loves to shed;
Perchance a sigh of holy pity gives
To the sad bosom, where its image lives.
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