The unconquerable pang of despised love.

But an old age serene and bright, and lovely as a Lapland night, shall lead thee to thy grave.

Take the sweet poetry of life away, and what remains behind?

I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.

Let the moon shine on the in thy solitary walk; and let the misty mountain-winds be free to blow against thee.

Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.

The clouds that gather round the setting sun, Do take a sober colouring from an eye, That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.