But in my deepest wo’s increase
Their beams have never whispered peace,
Though kindly words were breathed again,
I sought those speaking eyes in vain.
When steeped in wo, or wild with mirth,
The fickle, fleeting joy of earth,
Bound to the world with reckless thrall,
Those fated eyes have marked it all,
And taught the lip with mocking art
To act the tempter’s wily part,