LOHENGRIN.
TO have touched Heaven and failed to enter in!
Ah, Elsa, prone upon the lonely shore,
Watching the swan-wings beat along the blue,
Watching the glimmer of the silver mail,
Like flash of foam, till all are lost to view,—
What may thy sorrow or thy watch avail?
He cometh nevermore.
All gone the new hope of thy yesterday,—