"One struggle more," and I am free 
From pangs that rend my heart in twain; 
One last long sigh to love and thee, 
Then back to busy life again. 
It suits me well to mingle now 
With things that never pleased before: 
Though every joy is fled below, 
What future grief can touch me more? 

Then bring me wine, the banquet bring; 
Man was not form'd to live alone: 
I'll be that light, unmeaning thing 
That smiles with all, and weeps with none. 
It was not thus in days more dear, 
It never would have been, but thou 
Hast fled, and left me lonely here; 
Thou'rt nothing, — all are nothing now. 

In vain my lyre would lightly breathe! 
The smile that sorrow fain would wear 
But mocks the woe that lurks beneath, 
Like roses o'er a sepulchre. 
Though gay companions o'er the bowl 
Dispel awhile the sense of ill; 
Though pleasure fires the maddening soul, 
The heart — the heart is lonely still! 

On many a lone and lovely night 
It sooth'd to gaze upon the sky; 
For then I deem'd the heavenly light 
Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye: 
And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon, 
When sailing o'er the Aegean wave, 
"Now Thyrza gazes on that moon —"
Alas, it gleam'd upon her grave! 

When stretch'd on fever's sleepless bed, 
And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins, 
"'T is comfort still," I faintly said,
"That Thyrza cannot know my pains:" 
Like freedom to the time-worn slave, 
A boon 't is idle then to give, 
Relenting Nature vainly gave 
My life, when Thyrza ceased to live! 

My Thyrza's pledge in better days, 
When love and life alike were new! 
How different now thou meet'st my gaze! 
How tinged by time with sorrow's hue! 
The heart that gave itself with thee 
Is silent — ah, were mine as still! 
Though cold as e'en the dead can be, 
It feels, it sickens with the chill. 

Thou bitter pledge! thou mournful token! 
Though painful, welcome to my breast! 
Still, still, preserve that love unbroken, 
Or break the heart to which thou'rt press'd! 
Time tempers love, but not removes, 
More hallow'd when its hope is fled: 
Oh! what are thousand living loves 
To that which cannot quit the dead? 

'Twas in a small, up-country town,
When we were boys at school,
There came a circus with a clown
And with a bucking mule.
The clown announced a scheme they had —
The mule was such a king
They'd give a crown to any lad
Who'd ride him round the ring.
And, gentle reader, do not scoff
Nor think the man a fool,
To buck a porous plaster off
Was pastime to that mule.

The boys got on — he bucked like sin —
He threw them in the dirt.
And then the clown would raise a grin
By asking, 'Were they hurt?'
But Johnny Dacey came one night,
The crack of all the school,
Said he, 'I'll win the crown all right,
Bring in your bucking mule.'
The elephant went off his trunk,
The monkey played the fool,
And all the band got blazing drunk
When Dacey rode the mule.

But soon there rose an awful shout
Of laughter, when the clown,
From somewhere in his pants drew out
A little paper crown.
He placed the crown on Dacey's head,
While Dacey looked a fool,
'Now, there's your crown, my lad,' he said,
'For riding of the mule!'
The band struck up with 'Killaloe',
And 'Rule Britannia, Rule',
And 'Young Man from the Country', too,
When Dacey rode the mule.

Then Dacey, in a furious rage,
For vengeance on the show
Ascended to the monkeys' cage
And let the monkeys go;
The blue-tailed ape and chimpanzee
He turned abroad to roam;
Good faith! It was a sight to see
The people step for home.
For big baboons with canine snout
Are spiteful, as a rule,
The people didn't sit it out
When Dacey rode the mule.

And from the beasts that did escape
The bushmen all declare
Were born some creatures partly ape
And partly native bear.
They're rather few and far between;
The race is nearly spent;
But some of them may still be seen
In Sydney Parliament.
And when those legislators fight,
And drink, and act the fool —
It all commenced that wretched night
When Dacey rode the mule.