The joyful trust, the bounding hopes, that laughed at scorned defeat,
The feeling, like pure rock-born streams, as strong, as deep, and sweet;
The soul that thrilled with transport wild, at Beauty's magic name;
Ah! all have strangely altered now,—I am no more the same.
And now I feel alone and sad amid an ocean wide,
I care not much to what strange coast my single plank may ride,
I am alone—what matters it where my bowed frame may be,
Since now my heart is never more by land or rolling sea.
I feel that as yon Night now throws its mantle o'er the earth,
Till ghostly shapes and ghostly sounds, go dimly walking forth—