Which had cheer’d the board with the mirthful word,

And the red wine’s foaming flow!

Until that sullen, boding knell,

Flung out from every fane,

On harp, and lip, and spirit, fell,

With a weight and with a chain.

Woe for the pilgrim then

In the wild-deer’s forest far!

No cottage lamp, to the haunts of men,

Might guide him, as a star.