As locks are interrun with precious gems

To deck a queen out for her royalty:

Hear me, ye bright ones, for a poet's love,

And let light fall upon my swelling soul,

To crest each rising thought with purity!

There was a time—in youth, ere yet the sands

Of life clogged 'neath satiety, but ran

Lighter than blithe rills down a mountain's side;

There was a time, when in my soul a voice

[Pg 16]

Rang faintly like a huntsman's horn afar,

Sounding along a forest; and I arose,

And listed, as the bounding Antelope

Starts at the echo of a falling bough.

Louder it grew, and clearer—"Search for it!"

What?—It melted from me, but the voice still came.

Then up I gat, and to the pressing world

Sped on the wings of passion, striving on

Thro' pleasure and thro' pain, alike unchecked.

Then, what were lets to me? Amongst the strong

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