And thou hast loved—Oh! not in vain!

And not as common Mortals love.

The Fruit of Fire is Ashes,

The Ocean's tempest dashes

Wrecks and the dead upon the rocky shore:

True Passion must the all-searching changes prove,

The Agony of Pleasure and of Pain,

Till Nothing but the Bitterness remain;

And the Heart's Spectre flitting through the brain

Scoffs at the Exorcism which would remove.