Sonnet LXXIII: Translation

He who a tender long-lov'd Wife survives,
Sees himself sunder'd from the only mind
Whose hopes, and fears, and interests, were combin'd,
And blended with his own.--No more she lives!
No more, alas! her death-numb'd ear receives
His thoughts, that trace the Past, or anxious wind
The Future's darkling maze!--His wish refin'd,
The wish to please, exists no more, that gives
The will its energy, the nerves their tone!--
He feels the texture of his quiet torn,
And stopt the settled course that Action drew;
Life stands suspended--motionless--till thrown
By outward causes, into channels new;--
But, in the dread suspense, how sinks the Soul forlorn!