For it asks what the secret soul hath done!
And thou—there’s a dark weight on thine—away!—
Back to thy home, and pray!
Ring, joyous chords!—ring out again!
A swifter still, and a wilder strain!
And bring fresh wreaths!—we will banish all
Save the free in heart from our festive hall.
On! through the maze of the fleet dance, on!—
But where are the young and the lovely gone?
Where are the brows with the Red Rose crown’d,