V.
I saw the depths of her spirit wrung,
The music fled, and the harp unstrung;
The love intense she had treasured there,
Like fragrance shed on the desert air:
I bore her to deathless love away;
Oh! why do ye mourn for the young to-day?
VI.
I paused by the couch where the poet lay,
Mid fancies bright on their sparing way;