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.