Into a deep abyss they threw,--

If vast her crime, through love's despair,

Her punishment was dreadful too!

At length th'exhausted Khan returned,

Enough of waste his sword had dealt,

The Russian cot no longer burned,

Nor Caucasus his fury felt.

In token of Maria's loss

A marble fountain he upreared

In spot recluse;--the Christian's cross

Upon the monument appeared,

(Surmounting it a crescent bright,

Emblem of ignorance and night!)

Th'inscription mid the silent waste

Not yet has time's rude hand effaced,

Still do the gurgling waters pour

Their streams dispensing sadness round,

As mothers weep for sons no more,

In never-ending sorrows drowned.

In morn fair maids, (and twilight late,)

Roam where this monument appears,

And pitying poor Maria's fate

Entitle it the FOUNT OF TEARS!

My native land abandoned long,

I sought this realm of love and song.

Through Bakchesaria's palace wandered,

Upon its vanished greatness pondered;

All silent now those spacious halls,

And courts deserted, once so gay

With feasters thronged within their walls,

Carousing after battle fray.

Even now each desolated room

And ruined garden luxury breathes,

The fountains play, the roses bloom,