Nunc Te Bacche Canam.

    'Tis done!    Henceforth nor joy nor woe
        Can make or mar my fate;
    I gaze around, above, below,
        And all is desolate.
    Go, bid the shattered pine to bloom;
        The mourner to be merry;
    But bid no ray to cheer the tomb
        In which my hopes I bury!

    I never thought the world was fair;
        That 'Truth must reign victorious';
    I knew that Honesty was rare;
        Wealth only meritorious.
    I knew that Women might deceive,
        And sometimes cared for money;
    That Lovers who in Love believe
        Find gall as well as honey.

    I knew that "wondrous Classic lore"
        Meant something most pedantic;
    That Mathematics were a bore,
        And Morals un-romantic.
    I knew my own beloved light-blue
        Might much improve their rowing:
    In fact, I knew a thing or two
        Decidedly worth knowing.

    But thou! - Fool, fool, I thought that thou
        At least wert something glorious;
    I saw thy polished ivory brow,
        And could not feel censorious.
    I thought I saw thee smile - but that
        Was all imagination;
    Upon the garden seat I sat,
        And gazed in adoration.

    I plucked a newly-budding rose,
        Our lips then met together;
    We spoke not - but a lover knows
        How lips two lives can tether.
    We parted!    I believed thee true;
        I asked for no love-token;
    But now thy form no more I view -
        My Pipe, my Pipe, thou'rt broken!

    Broken! - and when the Sun's warm rays
        Illumine hill and heather,
    I think of all the pleasant days
        We might have had together.
    When Lucifer's phosphoric beam
        Shines e'er the Lake's dim water,
    O then, my Beautiful, I dream
        Of thee, the salt sea's daughter.

    O why did Death thy beauty snatch
        And leave me lone and blighted,
    Before the Hymeneal match
        Our young loves had united?
    I knew thou wert not made of clay,
        I loved thee with devotion,
    Soft emanation of the spray!
        Bright, foam-born child of Ocean!

    One night I saw an unknown star,
        Methought it gently nodded;
    I saw, or seemed to see, afar
        Thy spirit disembodied.
    Cleansed from the stain of smoke and oil,
        My tears it bade me wipe,
    And there, relieved from earthly toil,
        I saw my Meerschaum pipe.

    Men offer me the noisome weed;
        But nought can calm my sorrow;
    Nor joy nor misery I heed;
        I care not for the morrow.
    Pipeless and friendless, tempest-tost
        I fade, I faint, I languish;
    He only who has loved and lost
        Can measure all my anguish.