And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword

Farewell! if ever fondest prayer For other's weal avail'd on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky.

When we two parted In silence and tears, Half brokenhearted, To sever for years.

Because He is all-powerful, must all-good, too, follow? I judge but by the fruits—and they are bitter— Which I must feed on for a fault not mine.

When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past— For years fleet away with the wings of the dove— The dearest remembrance will still be the last, Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.

I only know we loved in vain; I only feel — farewell! farewell!

In secret we met In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years,