Look on him! is he laid To slumber from the harvest or the chase? -Too still and sad the smile upon his face, Yet that, ev'n that, must fade! Death holds not long unchang'd his fairest guest,-Come near! and bear the mortal to his rest! His voice of mirth hath ceased Amidst the vineyards! there is left no place Earth must take earth to moulder on her breast; Yet mourn ye not as they Whose spirit's light is quench'd !—for him the past Is seal'd. He may not fall, he may not cast His birthright's hope away! All is not here of our beloved and bless'd Leave ye the sleeper with his God to rest! THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP. WHAT hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells? We ask not such from thee. Yet more, the depths have more !—what wealth untold, Won from ten thousand royal Argosies! -Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main ! Earth claims not these again. Yet more, the depths have more !-thy waves have roll'd Above the cities of a world gone by! Sand hath fill'd up the palaces of old, -Dash o'er them, ocean! in thy scornful play! Yet more! the billows and the depths have more! Give back the lost and lovely!-those for whom To thee the love of woman hath gone down, Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown, -Yet must thou hear a voice-restore the dead! Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee! -Restore the dead, thou sea! |