A few short year’s, and in the lonely cave
Where sleeps the Zegri maid, is Hamet’s grave.
Sever’d in life, united in the tomb—
Such, of the hearts that loved so well, the doom!
Their dirge, of woods and waves th’ eternal moan;
Their sepulchre, the pine-clad rocks alone.
And oft beside the midnight watch-fire’s blaze,
Amidst those rocks, in long-departed days,
(When freedom fled, to hold, sequester’d there,
The stern and lofty councils of despair,)