I made myself a little boat
    And launched it on the sea;
And into the wide world went forth
    To see what there might be.

I had a power given me
    To gaze on every heart,
And from its secret joy or grief
    To bid the veil depart.

I entered first a stately hall;
    It shone with light and bloom,
And the air was heavy with the breath
    Of music and perfume.

There saw I one, who on his head
    Wore a bright crown of gold,
And his purple mantle swept the ground
    In many a broidered fold;

But he had a troubled glance,
    And his look was dark with care.
And his thoughts wandered to and fro,
    And rest they found no where.

I stood next by a gay lady;
    Rich gems were in her hair;
There was not one so proud as she,
    There was not one so fair:

But I perceived her spirit turned
     From the enchanted scene,
With sad and mournful memory,
     To days which once had been;

When her hair was bound with flowers,
    And her spirits fresh like them,
Ere she had bartered happiness
    For the heartless diadem.

I entered next a mossy bower;
    And there two lovers leant,
As if their destiny were clear
    As the moonlit element.

A moment passed, and all was dark,
    For the lover's blood was shed;
And his wan mistress lay beside—
    Her life with his had fled.

I saw a minstrel's lofty brow,
    Green with his laurel crown;
But I saw, too, that high pale brow
    Was bowed in sorrow down:

For blighted hope was at his heart,
    And he had found that fame
(The fame he had thought more than life)
    Was nothing but a name.

I saw the sun like glory rise
    On the warrior's snow-white plume;
And stern and stately was his step,
    But his lip and eye were gloom:

I saw him look towards the field
    He had covered with the slain,—
I knew his soul was on the friends
    He should not see again.

I then the crowded city sought—
   There was hurrying to and fro;
I asked if in it might be rest?
    And tumult answered, no.

I called the traveller wind, oh! where
    Peace may the weary crave?
And the deep voice of death replied—
    But only in the grave. ⁠L. E. L.