In Ganges' breast is pillowing now;
His bright beams on the waters dart
Like hopes when first they reach the heart,
Like hopes they soon will die away,
And gathering darkness dim the day.—
But few short moments now remain,
And then this world of grief and pain
To sad Nuleeni's soul will be
Lost in thy light—Eternity!
Her brow is bowed, she sunward turns;
And now the fire prophetic burns
Upon her lips: O they were formed
For language when the soul is warmed
With that pure flame, which ne'er is known,
Save in the heart's springtime alone,
To fling its gladdening light on life,
And gild this world of storm and strife.
Alas! that woman e'er should be
Bowed to the earth with misery,
And that her soul from pleasure's sky
Should like a meteor fall from high!
Alas! that ever sound should flow
Of aught but bliss from woman's tongue;
And sadder still that e'er with woe
Her heart devoted should be wrung;
But ah! most sad when woman gay
Must swan-like sing her dying lay!