Departed The Pride, And The Glory Of Mardi: The Vaunt Of Her Isles Sleeps Deep In The Sea, That Rolls O'Er His Corse With A Hush, His Warriors Bend Over Their Spears, His Sisters Gaze Upward And Mourn. Weep, Weep, For Adondo Is Dead! The Sun Has Gone Down In A Shower; Buried In Clouds The Face Of The Moon; Tears Stand In The Eyes Of The Starry Skies, And Stand In The Eyes Of The Flowers; And Streams Of Tears Are The Trickling Brooks, Coursing Adown The Mountains.-- Departed The Pride, And The Glory Of Mardi: The Vaunt Of Her Isles Sleeps Deep In The Sea. Fast Falls The Small Rain On Its Bosom That Sobs,-- Not Showers Of Rain, But The Tears Of Oro.