A heart, that danger could not daunt;
A soul, with wild dreams wildly stirred;
And hope that had not been deferred.
I cannot count how many years
Have since gone by, but toil and tears,
And the lone heart's deep agony,
I feel have sadly altered me;--
Yet mourn I not the change, for those
I loved or scorned, my friends or foes,
Have fallen and faded, one by one,
As time's swift current hurried by,
Till I, of all my kith alone,
Am left to wait, and wish to die.

VII.

How strong a hand hath Time! Man rears,
And names his work immortal; years
Go by. Behold! where dwelt his pride,
Stern Desolation's brood abide;
The owl within his bower sits,
The lone bat through his chamber flits;
Where bounded by the buoyant throng,
With measured step, and choral song,
The wily serpent winds along;
While the Destroyer stalketh by,
And smiles, as if in mockery.
How strong a band hath Time! Love weaves
His wreath of flowers and myrtle leaves,
(Methinks his fittest crown would be