116
elegiac ode.
Ah! all is past! no trumpet's sound
Shall raise him from th' unconscious ground!
England may call her valiant band
The champions of her land,
But Vassall's day is o'er,
Spent on a distant shore,
And still'd the beating heart, unnerv'd the patriot hand.
Shall raise him from th' unconscious ground!
England may call her valiant band
The champions of her land,
But Vassall's day is o'er,
Spent on a distant shore,
And still'd the beating heart, unnerv'd the patriot hand.
Ah! who is she whose streaming eye,
Disdaining earth, would pierce the sky,
To seek her hero there?
But soft! let no rude glance intrude
Upon the sacred solitude,
That veils the widow's tear!
Disdaining earth, would pierce the sky,
To seek her hero there?
But soft! let no rude glance intrude
Upon the sacred solitude,
That veils the widow's tear!
Muses of Britain! shall the tomb
Fold in its unrelenting gloom
Fold in its unrelenting gloom
