" As Izdubar doth end his holy prayer He kneels, and they now bear his body where A snowy couch doth rest beneath a shrine That stands near by the glowing fount divine, And Khasisadra lifts his holy hands, His incantation chants, and o'er him stands.

But, mourner for thy martyred love, Could'st thou but know what hearts must feel, Where no sweet recollections move, Whose tears a desert fount reveal.