Which once his star had been:
To every form his glance was turn'd,
Save of the breathless queen;
Though something, won from the grare's embrace,
Of her beauty still was there,
Its hues were all of that shadowy place,
'Twas not for him to bear.
Alas! the crown, the sceptre,
The treasures of the earth,
And the priceless love that pour'd those gifts,