Since Anna’s empire o’er his heart began!
Since first he called her his before the holy man!
Trim the gay taper in his rustic dome,
And light the wintry paradise of home!
And let the half-uncurtained window hail
Some way-worn man benighted in the vale!
Now, while the moaning night-wind rages high,
As sweep the shot-stars down the troubled sky,
While fiery hosts in Heaven’s wide circle play,
And bathe in lurid light the milky-way,