143 
But believed that the bright emanations of mind, 
Thus bewildering burst from the god thou enshrined, 
But alas ! the illusion so cherished is o’er; 
My pride has been roused, and I ’ll meet thee no 
more. 
Farewell! ah, farewell! though my spirit may droop, 
That its fond dream has fled, and in bitterness stoop 
To the dust for the fall of the idol it made, 
My pride and its purity naught shall degrade! 
I thought thee all perfect, as pure as the sun, 
And thy truth, and thy brightness, my wild worship 
won; 
But, alas ! the illusion so cherished is o’er; 
My pride has been roused, and I ’ll meet thee no 
more. 
