35
To hail the love that bad on earth been thine.—
In sun or shade, in calm or storm,
A sweet and shadowy form
Was ever at thy side,
And wore the features of thy sainted bride!
Ah! fatally too fond,
Her gathering arras she spread,
And winged the dart that sent thee to the dead!
Thou too didst gaze thy promised joys beyond,
With yearning all too true,
For her who for long years had vanished from thy view.
Heaven, pitying parted love,
Called thy pure soul above,
To its true home and ever dearest rest,
Where, with thy young love blest,
Thou mightest rove through calm Elysian bowers,
And, with thy fancy high,
Look down on this our sky,
Quaffing the sweets of rich immortal flowers.
There, in beatitude,
With all supreme and good,
Thy glorious nature might its powers unfold,
Far from a world to thee so lone and cold.
The while that world,
That saw an hour unfurled,
In sun or shade, in calm or storm,
A sweet and shadowy form
Was ever at thy side,
And wore the features of thy sainted bride!
Ah! fatally too fond,
Her gathering arras she spread,
And winged the dart that sent thee to the dead!
Thou too didst gaze thy promised joys beyond,
With yearning all too true,
For her who for long years had vanished from thy view.
Heaven, pitying parted love,
Called thy pure soul above,
To its true home and ever dearest rest,
Where, with thy young love blest,
Thou mightest rove through calm Elysian bowers,
And, with thy fancy high,
Look down on this our sky,
Quaffing the sweets of rich immortal flowers.
There, in beatitude,
With all supreme and good,
Thy glorious nature might its powers unfold,
Far from a world to thee so lone and cold.
The while that world,
That saw an hour unfurled,
