A garment of light to the sea I gave,
And melody soft to each rushing wave.
O’er the isles that gem the Ægean sea,
I sported and flew with frolicksome glee;
’Round the ruins grey of the olden time,
Bright garlands I hung of the creeping vine;
Ah little they thought, who slumber beneath,
That the warrior’s plume, and the victor’s wreath,
Would fade like the blossoms that spring-time flings,
’Round the cotter’s grave, and the tombs of kings.