He tasted love with half his mind,
⁠Nor ever drank the inviolate spring
⁠Where nighest heaven, who first could fling
This bitter seed among mankind;

That could the dead, whose dying eyes
⁠Were closed with wail, resume their life,
⁠They would but find in child and wife
An iron welcome when they rise:

'Twas well, indeed, when warm with wine,
⁠To pledge them with a kindly tear:
⁠To talk them o'er, to wish them here,
To count their memories half divine;

But if they came who past away,
⁠Behold their brides in other hands:
⁠The hard heir strides about their lands,
And will not yield them for a day.