40
Life's sum of bliss? say rather pain.
For heart to find its mate,
To love, and be beloved again,
Even when the hand of Fate
Motions farewell!—and one must be
A wanderer on the faithless sea.
Ay, Land or Sea! for, mark me now,
Next morrow o'er the foam,
Sword girt to side, and helm on brow,
I left a sorrowing home;
Yet still I lived as very part
Even of this sainted rock,
Where first that loved one's tristful heart
Its secret treasure broke[1]
In my love-thirsting ear alone,
Here, here, on this huge altar-stone.
Hear'st thou the busy sounds that come
From yonder glittering shore:
The madness of the doubling drum,
The naker's sullen roar—
- ↑ Its treasured secret broke.—MS. copy.
