Who loved, who suffer'd countless ills,
⁠Who battled for the True, the Just,
⁠Be blown about the desert dust,
Or seal'd within the iron hills?

No more? A monster then, a dream,
⁠A discord. Dragons of the prime,
⁠That tare each other in their slime,
Were mellow music match'd with him.

O life as futile, then, as frail!
⁠O for thy voice to soothe and bless!
⁠What hope of answer, or redress?
Behind the veil, behind the veil.