And give the eye of distant weeping faith
To view the form of its idolatry:
But oh! the scenes mid which they met and parted—
The thoughts, the recollections sweet and bitter—
Th’ Elysian dreams of lovers, when they loved—
Who shall restore them?
Less lovely are the fugitive clouds of eve,
And not more vanishing—if thou couldst speak,
Dumb witness of the secret soul of Imogine,
Thou might’st acquit the faith of woman kind—