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O for a dirge! But why complain?
Ask rather a triumphal strain
When FERMOR's race is run;
A garland of immortal boughs
To bind around the Christian's brows,
Whose glorious work is done.

We pay a high and holy debt ;
No tears of passionate regret
Shall stain this votive lay;
Ill-worthy, Beaumont ! were the grief
That flings itself on wild relief
When Saints have passed away.

Sad doom, at Sorrow's shrine to kneel,
For ever covetous to feel,
And impotent to bear :
Such once was hers - to think and think
On severed love, and only sink
From anguish to despair !

But nature to its inmost part
Had Faith refined, and to her heart
A peaceful cradle given;
Calm as the dew-drop's, free to rest
Within a breeze-fanned rose's breast
Till it exhales to heaven.

Was ever Spirit that could bend
So graciously?— that could descend,
Another's need to suit,
So promptly from her lofty throne ?-
In works of love, in these alone,
How restless, how minute !

Pale was her hue; yet mortal cheek
Ne'er kindled with a livelier streak
When aught had suffered wrong, -
When aught that breathes had felt a wound;
Such look the Oppressor might confound,
However proud and strong.

But hushed be every thought that springs
From out the bitterness of things;
Her quiet is secure;
No thorns can pierce her tender feet,
Whose life was, like the violet sweet,
As climbing jasmine, pure; -

As snowdrop on an infant's grave,
Or lily heaving with the wave
That feeds it and defends;
As Vesper, ere the star hath kissed
The mountain top, or breathed the mist
That from the vale ascends.

Thou takest not away, O Death!
Thou strik'st — and absence perisheth,
Indifference is no more ;
The future brightens on our sight;
For on the past hath fallen a light
That tempts us to adore.




1. “REST, rest, perturbed Earth! “O rest, thou doleful Mother of Mankind !” A Spirit sang in tones more plaintive than the wind: “ From regions where no evil thing has birth “ I come — thy stains to wash away, “ Thy cherished fetters to unbind, “ To open thy sad eyes upon a milder day. “The Heavens are throngedwith martyrs that haverisen

“ From out thy noisome prison;

“ The penal caverns groan 6. With tens of thousands rent from off the tree

Of hopeful life, - by Battle's whirlwind blown “ Into the deserts of Eternity.

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Unpitied havoc ! Victims unlamented ! “ But not on high, where madness is resented, And murder causes some sad tears to flow, “ Though, from the widely-sweeping blow, “ The choirs of Angels spread, triumphantly augmented.

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“ False Parent of Mankind !

“ Obdurate, proud, and blind,
" I sprinkle thee with soft celestial dews,

Thy lost maternal heart to re-infuse ! “Scattering this far-fetched moisture from my wings,

Upon the act a blessing I implore, “ Of which the rivers in their secret springs, “ The rivers stained so oft with human gore, “ Are conscious ;— may the like return no more !

May Discord — for a Seraph's care “ Shall be attended with a bolder prayer May she, who once disturbed the seats of bliss

“ These mortal spheres above, “ Bé chained for ever to the black abyss ! “ And thou, O rescued Earth, by peace and love, “ And merciful desires, thy sanctity approve !"

The Spirit ended his mysterious rite,
And the pure vision closed in darkness infinite.

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