Song Of Yoomy

Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi:
The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea,
  That rolls o'er his corse with a hush,
  His warriors bend over their spears,
  His sisters gaze upward and mourn.
  Weep, weep, for Adondo is dead!
  The sun has gone down in a shower;
  Buried in clouds the face of the moon;
Tears stand in the eyes of the starry skies,
  And stand in the eyes of the flowers;
And streams of tears are the trickling brooks,
  Coursing adown the mountains.--
  Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi:
  The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea.
Fast falls the small rain on its bosom that
  sobs,--
  Not showers of rain, but the tears of Oro.