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Charlotte：
〃You do not expect me。 You think I will obey you； and not visit
you again till Christmas Eve。 O Charlotte； today or never！ On
Christmas Eve you will hold this paper in your hand； you will
tremble； and moisten it with your tears。 I will I must！ Oh； how
happy I feel to be determined！〃
In the meantime； Charlotte was in a pitiable state of mind。 After
her last conversation with Werther； she found how painful to herself
it would be to decline his visits； and knew how severely he would
suffer from their separation。
She had； in conversation with Albert； mentioned casually that Werther
would not return before Christmas Eve； and soon afterward Albert
went on horseback to see a person in the neighbourhood； with whom
he had to transact some business which would detain him all night。
Charlotte was sitting alone。 None of her family were near； and
she gave herself up to the reflections that silently took possession
of her mind。 She was for ever united to a husband whose love and
fidelity she had proved； to whom she was heartily devoted； and who
seemed to be a special gift from Heaven to ensure her happiness。
On the other hand； Werther had become dear to her。 There was a
cordial unanimity of sentiment between them from the very first
hour of their acquaintance； and their long association and repeated
interviews had made an indelible impression upon her heart。 She
had been accustomed to communicate to him every thought and feeling
which interested her； and his absence threatened to open a void
in her existence which it might be impossible to fill。 How heartily
she wished that she might change him into her brother； that she
could induce him to marry one of her own friends； or could reestablish
his intimacy with Albert。
She passed all her intimate friends in review before her mind； but
found something objectionable in each； and could decide upon none
to whom she would consent to give him。
Amid all these considerations she felt deeply but indistinctly
that her own real but unexpressed wish was to retain him for herself；
and her pure and amiable heart felt from this thought a sense of
oppression which seemed to forbid a prospect of happiness。 She
was wretched： a dark cloud obscured her mental vision。
It was now half…past six o'clock； and she heard Werther's step on
the stairs。 She at once recognised his voice； as he inquired if
she were at home。 Her heart beat audibly we could almost say
for the first time at his arrival。 It was too late to deny
herself； and； as he entered； she exclaimed； with a sort of ill
concealed confusion； 〃You have not kept your word！〃 〃I promised
nothing；〃 he answered。 〃But you should have complied； at least
for my sake；〃 she continued。 〃 I implore you； for both our sakes。〃
She scarcely knew what she said or did； and sent for some friends；
who； by their presence； might prevent her being left alone with
Werther。 He put down some books he had brought with him； then
made inquiries about some others； until she began to hope that her
friends might arrive shortly； entertaining at the same time a
desire that they might stay away。
At one moment she felt anxious that the servant should remain in
the adjoining room； then she changed her mind。 Werther； meanwhile；
walked impatiently up and down。 She went to the piano； and
determined not to retire。 She then collected her thoughts； and
sat down quietly at Werther's side； who had taken his usual place
on the sofa。
〃Have you brought nothing to read？〃 she inquired。 He had nothing。
〃There in my drawer；〃 she continued； 〃you will find your own
translation of some of the songs of Ossian。 I have not yet read
them； as I have still hoped to hear you recite them； but； for some
time past； I have not been able to accomplish such a wish。〃 He
smiled； and went for the manuscript； which he took with a shudder。
He sat down； and； with eyes full of tears； he began to read。
〃Star of descending night！ fair is thy light in the west！ thou
liftest thy unshorn head from thy cloud； thy steps are stately on
thy hill。 What dost thou behold in the plain？ The stormy winds
are laid。 The murmur of the torrent comes from afar。 Roaring
waves climb the distant rock。 The flies of evening are on their
feeble wings： the hum of their course is on the field。 What dost
thou behold； fair light？ But thou dost smile and depart。 The
waves come with joy around thee： they bathe thy lovely hair。
Farewell； thou silent beam！ Let the light of Ossian's soul arise！
〃And it does arise in its strength！ I behold my departed friends。
Their gathering is on Lora； as in the days of other years。 Fingal
comes like a watery column of mist！ his heroes are around： and
see the bards of song； gray…haired Ullin！ stately Ryno！ Alpin with
the tuneful voice： the soft complaint of Minona！ How are ye changed；
my friends； since the days of Selma's feast！ when we contended；
like gales of spring as they fly along the hill； and bend by turns
the feebly whistling grass。
〃Minona came forth in her beauty； with downcast look and tearful
eye。 Her hair was flying slowly with the blast that rushed
unfrequent from the hill。 The souls of the heroes were sad when
she raised the tuneful voice。 Oft had they seen the grave of
Salgar； the dark dwelling of white…bosomed Colma。 Colma left alone
on the hill with all her voice of song！ Salgar promised to come！
but the night descended around。 Hear the voice of Colma； when she
sat alone on the hill！
〃Colma。 It is night： I am alone； forlorn on the hill of storms。
The wind is heard on the mountain。 The torrent is howling down
the rock。 No hut receives me from the rain： forlorn on the hill
of winds！
〃Rise moon！ from behind thy clouds。 Stars of the night； arise！
Lead me； some light； to the place where my love rests from the
chase alone！ His bow near him unstrung； his dogs panting around
him！ But here I must sit alone by the rock of the mossy stream。
The stream and the wind roar aloud。 I hear not the voice of my
love！ Why delays my Salgar； why the chief of the hill his promise？
Here is the rock and here the tree！ here is the roaring stream！
Thou didst promise with night to be here。 Ah！ whither is my Salgar
gone？ With thee I would fly from my father； with thee from my
brother of pride。 Our race have long been foes： we are not foes；
O Salgar！
〃Cease a little while； O wind！ stream； be thou silent awhile！ let
my voice be heard around！ let my wanderer hear me！ Salgar！ it is
Colma who calls。 Here is the tree and the rock。 Salgar； my love；
I am here！ Why delayest thou thy coming？ Lo！ the calm moon comes
forth。 The flood is bright in the vale。 The rocks are gray on
the steep。 I see him not on the brow。 His dogs come not before
him with tidings of his near approach。 Here I must sit alone！
〃Who lie on the heath beside me？ Are they my love and my brother？
Speak to me； O my friends！ To Colma they give no reply。 Speak
to me： I am alone！ My soul is tormented with fears。 Ah； they are
dead！ Their swords are red from the fight。 O my brother！ my
brother！ why hast thou slain my Salgar！ Why； O Salgar； hast thou
slain my brother！ Dear were ye both to me！ what shall I say in
your praise？ Thou wert fair on the hill among thousands！ he was
terrible in fight！ Speak to me！ hear my voice！ hear me； sons of
my love！ They are silent！ silent for ever！ Cold； cold； are their
breasts of clay！ Oh； from the rock on the hill； from the top of
the windy steep； speak； ye ghosts of the dead！ Speak； I will not
be afraid！ Whither are ye gone to rest？ In what cave of the hill
shall I find the departed？ No feeble voice is on the gale： no
answer half drowned in the storm！
〃I sit in my grief： I wait for morning in my tears！ Rear the tomb；
ye friends of the dead。 Close it not till Colma come。 My life
flies away like a dream。 Why should I stay behind？ Here shall I
rest with my friends； by the stream of the sounding rock。 When
night comes on the hill when the loud winds arise my ghost shall
stand in the blast； and mourn the death of my friends。 The hunter
shall hear from his booth； he shall fear； but love my voice！ For
sweet shall my voice be for my friends： pleasant were her friends
to Colma。
〃Such was thy song； Minona； softly blushing daughter of Torman。
Our tears descended for Colma； and our souls were sad！ Ullin came
with his harp； he gave the song of Alpin。 The voice of Alpin was
pleasant； the soul of Ryno was a beam of fire！ But they had rested
in the narrow house： their voice had ceased in Selma！ Ullin had
returned one day from the chase before the heroes fell。 He heard
their strife on the hill： their song was soft； but sad！ They
mourned the fall of Morar； first of mortal men！ His soul was like
the soul of Fingal： his sword like the sword of Oscar。 But he
fell； and his father mourned： his sister's eyes were full of tears。
Minona's eyes were full of tears； the sister of car…borne Morar。
She retired from the song of Ullin； like the moon in the west；
when she foresees the shower； and hides her fair head in a cloud。
I touched the harp with Ullin： the song of morning rose！
〃Ryno。 The wind and the rai