The Tyrant Sway.

The heart that owns thy tyrant sway, Whate'er its hopes may be, Is like a bark that drifts away Upon a shoreless sea! No compass left to guide her on, Upon the surge she's tempest-torn— And such is life to me! And what is life when love is fled? The world, unshared by thee? I'd rather slumber with the dead, Than such a waif to be! The bark that by no compass steers Is lost, which way soe'er she veers— And such is life to me!