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Down let him lie
And slumbering die,
And change his soul for harmony.
Dryden.
And slumbering die,
And change his soul for harmony.
Dryden.
True constancy no time, no power can move;
He that hath known to change, ne'er knew to love.
He that hath known to change, ne'er knew to love.
What will not woman, gentle woman dare
When strong affection stirs her spirit up!
Southey.
When strong affection stirs her spirit up!
Southey.
STANZAS
ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS PICTON.
ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS PICTON.
Oh ! give to the hero the death of the brave—
On the field where the might,
Of his deeds shed a light,
Through the gloom which o'ershadows the grave.
On the field where the might,
Of his deeds shed a light,
Through the gloom which o'ershadows the grave.
Let him not be laid on the feverish bed,
There to waste through the day,
Like a taper away,
And live 'till the spirit be dead.
There to waste through the day,
Like a taper away,
And live 'till the spirit be dead.
Oh no ! let him lie on fame's death-bed of pride:
On the hoof-beaten strand,
With his sword in his hand,
And a fresh-welling wound in his side.
On the hoof-beaten strand,
With his sword in his hand,
And a fresh-welling wound in his side.
