From the wreck of the past, which hath perished,[x]

Thus much I at least may recall,

It hath taught me that what I most cherished

Deserved to be dearest of all:

In the Desert a fountain is springing,[y] [81]

In the wide waste there still is a tree,

And a bird in the solitude singing,

Which speaks to my spirit of Thee.[82]

July 24, 1816.

[First published, Prisoner of Chillon, etc., 1816.]