The lord of light to whom the stars belong,—
Illumed the track that led thee through the throng?
Dost thou remember, in the wooded dale,
Beyond the town of Dante the Divine,
How all the air was flooded as with wine?
And how the lark, to drown the nightingale,
Peal'd out sweet notes? I live to tell the tale.
But thou? Oblivion signs thee with a sign!