English poem
The Spell Is Broke, the Charm Is Flown!
by Lord Byron
The spell is broke, the charm is flown! Thus is it with Life's fitful fever: We madly smile when we should groan; Delirium is our best deceiver. Each lucid interval of thought Recalls the woes of Nature's charter; And He that acts as wise men ought, But lives--as Saints have died--a martyr.