Oh Genius! fling aside thy starry crown, Close up thy rainbow wings, and on thy head Lay dust and ashes — for, this cold drear world Is but thy priso… - Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Weep not for the dead with a fruitless recalling,
Their soul on the wings of the morning hath fled;
Mourn rather for those whom yet life is enthralling,
Ah! weep for the living—weep not for the dead.

He enter'd now the garden, and a fall
Of singing, voice and lute, sank on his ear :
At first it seem'd thrice sweet and musical,
But it grew sadder as he came more near.

[Alvine] Oh, that sweet ring of graceful figures ! one
Flings her white arms on high, and gaily strikes
Her golden cymbals — I can almost deem
I hear their beatings; one with glancing feet
Follows her music, while her crimson cheek
Is flushed with exercise, till the red grape
'Mid the dark tresses of a sister nymph
Is scarcely brighter ; there another stands,
A darker spirit yet, with joyous brow,
And holding a rich goblet ;