"AZTHENE.
"A sound melodious shook the breeze
When thy beloved name was heard: [column 2:]
Such was the music in the word
Its dainty rhythm the pulses stirred.
But passed forever joys like these.
There is no joy, no light, no day;
But black despair and night alway,
And thickening gloom:
And this, Azthene, is my doom.
"Was it for this, for weary years,
I strove among the sons of men,
And by the magic of my pen —
Just sorcery — walked the lion's den
Of slander void of tears and fears —
And all for thee? For thee! — alas,
As is the image on a glass
So baseless seems,
Azthene, all my earthly dreams."
"—— so baseless seems,
Azthene, all my earthly dreams —"