Light up thy halls! 'Tis closing day;
I'm drear and lone and far away --
Cold blows on my breast, the north wind's bitter sigh
And oh, my couch is bleak beneath the rainy sky!

Light up thy halls -- and think not of me;
That face is absent now, thou hast hated me so to see --
Bright be thine eyes, undimmed their dazzling shine,
For never, never more shall they encounter mine!

The desert moor is dark; there is tempest in the air;
I have breathed my only wish in one last, one burning prayer --
A prayer that would come forth although it lingered long;
That set on fire my heart, but froze upon my tongue --

And now, it shall be done before the morning rise;
I will not watch the sun ascend in yonder skies.
One task alone remains -- thy pictured face to view
And then I go to prove if God, at least, be true!

Do I not see thee now? Thy black resplendent hair;
Thy glory-beaming brow, and smile how heavenly fair!
Thine eyes are turned away -- those eyes I would not see,
Their dark, their deadly ray would more than madden me

There, go, Deceiver, go! My hand is streaming wet,
My hearts blood flows to buy the blessing -- To forget!
Oh could that lost heart give back, back again to thine
One tenth part of the pain that clouds my dark decline!

Oh could I see thy lids weighed down in cheerless woe;
Too full to hide their tears, too stern to overflow;
Oh could I know thy soul with equal grief was torn
This fate might be endured -- this anguish might be borne!

How gloomy grows the Night! 'Tis Gondal's wind that
blows
I shall not tread again the deep glens where it rose --
I feel it on my face -- Where, wild blast, dost thou roam?
What do we, wanderer, here, so far away from home?

I do not need thy breath to cool my death-cold brow
But go to that far land, where she is shining now;
Tell Her my latest wish, tell Her my dreary doom;
Say, that my pangs are past, but Hers are yet to come --

Vain words -- vain, frenzied thoughts! No ear can hear me call --
Lost in the vacant air my frantic curses fall
And could she see me now, perchance her lip would smile
Would smile in careless pride and utter scorn the while!

And yet, for all her hate, each parting glance would tell
A stronger passion breathed, burned in this last farewell --
Unconquered in my soul the Tyrant rules me still --
Life bows to my control, but, Love I cannot kill!