.
. Wrecks,--nought but wrecks!--the time was when We two were worth a thousand men!" And so the broken harp they bring With pitying smiles that none could blame; Alas! there's not a single string Of all that filled the tarnished frame! But see! like children overjoyed, His fingers rambling through the void! "I clasp thee! Ay.
mine ancient lyre.