What sayest thou, to-night, poor soul so drear, What sayest—heart erewhile engulfed in gloom,
To the very lovely, very chaste, and very dear,
Whose god-like look hath made thee to re-bloom?
 
To her, with pride we chant an echoing Hymn,
For nought can touch the sweetness of her sway;
Her flesh ethereal as the seraphim,
............