O’er love would now be thrown.—
Away! away! from time, from change,
Once more to meet my own!
THE VICTOR.
“De tout ce qui t’aimoit n’est-il plus rien qui t’aime?”
Lamartine.
Mighty ones, Love and Death!
Ye are the strong in this world of ours;
Ye meet at the banquets, ye dwell midst the flowers,
—Which hath the conqueror’s wreath?