EPITAPH ON PAYNE'S TOMB AT TUNIS.
11
Not even in death, poor wanderer, till now,— For long his ashes slept in alien soil.Will they not thrill to-day, as round his brow A fitting wreath is twined with loving toil?
Honor and praise be his whose generous hand Brought the sad exile back, no more to roam;Back to the bosom of his own loved land— Back to his kindred, friends, his own Sweet Home!
EPITAPH ON THE TOMB OF JOHN HOWARD
PAYNE AT TUNIS.
Sure, when thy gentle spirit fled To realms beyond the azure dome,With arms outstretched, God's angels said— "Welcome to Heaven's 'Home, Sweet Home!'"
