Pour’d on my parting breath, vain gift of song!

Why com’st thou thus, o’ermastering, rich and strong,

In the dark hour of fate?

“Only to wake the sighs

Of echo-voices from their sparry cell;

Only to say—O sunshine and blue skies!

O life and love! farewell.”

Thus flow’d the death-chant on; while mournfully

Low winds and waves made answer, and the tones

Buried in rocks along the Grecian stream—