I sent a ring?a little band 
Of emerald and ruby stone, 
And bade it, sparkling on thy hand, 
Tell thee sweet tales of one 
Whose constant memory 
Was full of loveliness, and thee. 

A shell was graven on its gold,? 
'Twas Cupid fix'd without his wings? 
To Helene once it would have told 
More than was ever told by rings: 
But now all 's past and gone, 
Her love is buried with that stone. 

Thou shalt not see the tears that start 
From eyes by thoughts like these beguiled; 
Thou shalt not know the beating heart, 
Ever a victim and a child: 
Yet Helene, love, believe 
The heart that never could deceive. 

I'll hear thy voice of melody 
In the sweet whispers of the air; 
I'll see the brightness of thine eye 
In the blue evening's dewy star; 
In crystal streams thy purity; 
And look on Heaven to look on thee.