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—Be thou at peace in thy brighter lot,
“Are they gone, all gone from the sunny hillf
“Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world—with kings, The powerful of the earth—the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre.”
AND shrink ye from the way
The warrior kings, whose banner Flew far as eagles fly, They are gone where swords avail them not.
From the feast of victory.
And the seers, who sat of yore
Can ye still fear the grave?
—We fear, we fear !—the sunshine
Ye shrink —the bards whose lays Have made your deep hearts burn, They have left the sun, and the voice of praise, For the land whence none return:
And the lovely, whose memorial
From the gaze of human eye.
Would ye not join that throng
Of the earth's departed flowers,
And the masters of the mighty song
In their far and fadeless bowers
Those songs are high and holy,
Linger then yet awhile,
That is taken from you now.
There have been sweet singing voices
Which none again may fill.
Soft eyes are seen no more
Kindred and friends are gone before,
—We fear not now, we fear not!
THE BREEZE FROM LAND.
“As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest; with such delay Well pleas'd they slack their course, and many a league, Cheer'd with the grateful smell, old Ocean smiles.”
Joy is upon the lonely seas,
Oh! welcome are the winds that tell
A wanderer of the deep