On The Death Of Mary Maguire   by Turlough O’Carolan

Despondent, sick, exhausted with my grief
Awhile the founts of sorrow cease to flow,
In vain! -- I rest not -- sleep brings no relief
Cheerless, companionless, I wake to woe
Nor birth, nor beauty shall again allure
Nor fortune win me to another bride
Alone I wander, and alone endure
Till death restore me to my dear one's side.

Once every thought and every scene was gay
Friends, mirth and music, all my hours employed
Now doomed to mourn my last sad years away
My life a solitude -- my heart a void
Alas, the change! -- to change again no more
For every comfort is with Mary fled
And ceaseless anguish shall her loss deplore
Till age and sorrow join me with the dead.

Adieu each gift of nature and of art
That erst adorned me in life's early prime
The cloudless temper, and the social heart
The soul ethereal, and the flights divine
Thy loss, my Mary, chased them from my breast
Thy sweetness cheers, thy judgement aids no more
The muse deserts a heart with grief oppressed
And flown is every joy that charmed before.