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Ring, joyous chords!—ring forth again! A swifter still, and a wilder strain! —But thou, though a reckless mien be thine, And thy cup be crown'd with the foaming wine, By the fitful bursts of thy laughter loud, By thine eye's quick flash through its troubled cloud, I know thee!—it is but the wakeful fear Of a haunted bosom that brings thee here! I know thee!—thou fearest the solemn night, With her piercing stars and her deep wind's might! There 's a tone in her voice which thou fain wouldst shun, For it asks what the secret soul hath done! And thou—there 's a dark weight on thine—away! —Back to thy home and pray

Ring, joyous chords!—ring out again! A swifter still, and a wilder strain! And bring fresh wreaths!—we will banish all Save the free in heart from our festive hall. On through the maze of the fleet dance, on! —But where are the young and the lovely?—gone! Where are the brows with the red rose crown'd, And the floating forms with the bright zone bound?