And, of their light deprived, in grief consumes,
Born but to live within thine eye-beam’s power.
“Polomeu apartamento.”
Amidst the bitter tears that fell
In anguish at my last farewell,
Oh! who would dream that joy could dwell,
To make that moment bright?
Yet be my judge, each heart! and say,
Which then could most my bosom sway,