Tell me what didst thou dream, my lady fair,
that hast troubled you so?
What darkness wraps a ghastly shroud ‘round your mind?
A vexing premonition you now declare,
through eyes of heavy sorrow.
Come, take a drink; stillness shall return in time.

‘Tis but the ravings of an indignant throng
that jostles the soul within.
Beholdest thou their gnashing teeth and wild eye,
their tongues conducted in a spiteful song!
My dear, I cannot comprehend
the vindictive fervor by which they cry.

Thou claimest the vagabond innocent,
and with thy verdict I agree,
yet here doth passion and politics collide.
This city is a duel, and I a participant.
Change is wrested in slow degrees
and greater injury forestalled by compromise.

Alas! Thy soft hands shake from misplaced fear
and thy lovely eyes downcast.
Peace, my love! Look thou forward, not behind.
Was he a secret son of gods drawn near,
or a sly iconoclast?
Trust me, ‘tis best to leave these matters undefined.    

Hark! Here is Lethe’s basin, filled to its brim,
a place to bathe our ailing souls,
In such waters one may wash his conscience white.
Of this dreadful day, speak ye not again
nor pay the Titaness’s toll,
but stitch thy memory by dawn’s absolving light.