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- Forged by the beats of elemental passion.
- Like some young tressèd tree
- That sighs to each . . . wind, so he
- Stretched arms to welcome Love, who softly winging
- Came down to earth from lands beyond the dawn;
- Her strength and gentleness inspired his singing,
- Until she stood amazed, from whom 'twas drawn.
- Spirit of love, draw near this monument
- And veil the ancient glory of thy head,
- For he is dead, whose silver days were spent
- In thy eternal service, he is dead
- And borne aloft away
- On gloomy wings outspread
- More strong and sure than thy bright plumes,
- O mistress of a day!
• • •
[EPODE]
- Nothing of him is left us, save this scroll,
- The fire-thrown shadow of his silent soul,
- The glass whose even rondure is to keep
- The immortal country of his mortal sleep.
- Where terrors move and angry phantoms cry,
- Titans and tyrants in a ragged sky,
- Where in tall caves magicians read the rune,
- And white limbs glitter in the plenilune;
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