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.