And thy summer of beauty has faded away,
Like a dream from the brain, like a leaf from the spray
Oh! dark must the cloud of thy sorrow have been,
And mighty the fetter that bound thee, and keen
As the fangs of despair, as the arrows of Death,
As the terrors that rain from the hurricane's breath,
Thus to wilder thy brain, thus to wither thy brow,
As thou standest before me all tremblingly now.
Thou art come to my hall with the sound of the storm;
Oh, the tears of his pity flow fast from thy form,