To songs that dimmed the bulbul's ode ...
And man became my doom.
He dragged me through the dew-drenched brake,
And took the heart of me to make
A tavern-door at Kum."
The pilgrims sat erect, engrossed,
Or searched the crannies for a ghost.
"Ah, heed it not," implored the host;
"This hell-burnt father's son
Moans ever like a soul oppressed,