Gore-House Left for Paris

Under the lilacs we shall meet no more,
Nor Alfred's welcome hail me at the door,
Nor the brave guardian of the hall contend
In harsher voice to greet his trusty friend,
Nor on the banks of Arno or of Seine
Sure is my hope to bend my steps again;
But be it surer, Margarite, that Power
May still remember many a festive hour,
More festive when we saw the captive free,
And clasp afresh the hand held forth by thee.