In pity, there, there, am I--
A withered thought--that cannot die.

LIGHT.

But I was born within a light
That kindled in the womb.
And I can never feel the night
When all around is gloom;
For joy looked pleased upon my birth,
And cast a ray e'en on the earth;
And fairies spun it in a ring,
With a feather from their wing,
And called it hope--a charm for tears,
And chained it to their silken ears.

DARK.

And I was formed within a light
That kindled in the womb of night,
Of loathsome withered weeds--
And fate looked on and fanned the flame,
But freed me from the touch of blame,
Of all my evil deeds.
Enchantress waited on my birth,
And bade the hypochondriac walk the earth.

BOTH, RECITATIVE.

Together, together, yet, O yet we dwell,