Taunt him who failed in his attempt.
Full often from the neighbouring stream
She caught unhoped repast for them;
Then, spreading out her little hoard,
Waited the coming of her lord,
And joyed to see the fond surprise
That glistened in his wondering eyes.
XIII.
"Koreungat! seest thou not? that light
That ever wont to shine so bright—
Sure, no mischance"——upon his tongue
With faltering tone the accents hung.
Hapless Moyarra! 'tis too true;
The fire that nightly beamed for you.
Trimmed by the fostering hand of love,
No longer glimmers through the grove;
The hands that nursed it, clasped in woe,
Plead vainly to the insulting foe;
The eyes that ached for thy return
Beneath the victor's thraldom mourn;
The heart in which thou wert enshrined,
Which in thine absence ever pined,
