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“By the violated hearth
Hath borne to me and mine;
“By the home ev’n here o'erthrown,
Cumber our birth-place not!
“Will my sire's unransom'd field
To the buried spoiler yield
“The tree before him fell
But its deep root yet shall swell
“The land that I have till'd,
With my home's white ashes fill’d—
“Here each proud column's bed
Where no wrong against him cries'.”
Shame glow'd on each dark face
For their leader's dust e'en then.
A little earth for him
The name, a nation's star !
One deep voice thus arose
That were but heard in Heaven f *
* For the particulars of this and other scarcely less remarkable circumstances which attended the obsequies of William the Conqueror, see Sismondi's Histoire des Fran
THE SOUND OF THE SEA.
THou art sounding on, thou mighty sea,
The ancient rocks yet ring to thee,
Oh! many a glorious voice is gone,
Of mournfulness or mirth.
The Dorian flute that sigh’d of yore
The harp of Judah peals no more
And Memnon's lyre hath lost the chord
Are with her eagles flown.
And mute the Moorish horn, that rang
And the hymn the leagued Crusaders sang,
But thou art swelling on, thou deep,
Thy billowy anthem, ne'er to sleep
Thou listest up thy solemn voice
In that one harmony.
It fills the noontide's calm profound,
Let there be silence, deep and strange,
—So may our hearts repose.