WHEN the lamp is shatter'd

    The light in the dust lies dead—

    When the cloud is scatter'd

    The rainbow's glory is shed.

    When the lute¹ is broken

    Sweet tones are remember'd not；

    When the lips have spoken

    Lov'd accents are soon forgot.

    As music and splendour

    Survive not the lamp and the lute

    The heart's echoes render

    No song when the spirit is mute—

    No song but sad dirges²

    Like the wind through a ruin'd cell

    Or the mournful surges

    That ring the dead seaman's knell³.

    When hearts have once mingl'd

    Love first leaves the well-built nest；

    The weak one is singl'd

    To endure what it once possesst.

    O Love！ who bewailest

    The frailty⁴ of all things here

    Why choose you the frailest⁵

    For your cradle your home and your bier？

    Its passions will rock thee

    As the storms rock the ravens⁶ on high；

    Bright reason will mock thee

    Like the sun from a wintry sky.

    From thy nest every rafter

    Will rot and thine eagle home

    Leave thee naked to laughter

    When leaves fall and cold winds come.

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