The dove, the raven stained with gore,
And found beneath the murderer's tree
The young heir of Glenore,—
A bloody, ghastly corpse was he,
By murmuring Funcheon's fairy shore.
"Go back, go back, thou weary dove,—
To the cruel maid tell o'er and o'er,
He's death's and mine, her hate or love
Can never reach him more—
To his ice-cold heart in Molagga's grove,