To bring fit vengeance on the fiendish band
That wrought the ruin; for the wild scene bore
Marks of that wizard’s blast, all withered, burnt, or frore.
“Sweet lady mine! where art thou dwelling now?
That vile enchanter hath thee in his power!
Oh! that thou coulds’t but hear my spirit vow
To search earth for thee to life’s latest hour.
And though he hath deprived thee of thy dower,
’Tis naught to me, for wert thou still but mine,
I would not heed bright fortune’s richest shower