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Who from their Dwellings came not forth to join
In this sad service, less disturbed than we.
They started at the tributary peal
Of instantaneous thunder, which announced
Through the still air the closing of the Grave;
And distant mountains echoed with a sound
Of lamentation, never heard before!"
The Pastor ceased.—My venerable Friend
Victoriously upraised his clear bright eye;
And, when that eulogy was ended, stood
Enwrapt,—as if his inward sense perceived
The prolongation of some still response,
Sent by the ancient soul of this wide Land,
The spirit of its mountains and its seas,
Its cities, temples, fields, its awful power,
Its rights and virtues—by that Deity
Descending; and supporting his pure heart
With patriotic confidence and joy.
And, at the last of those memorial words,
The pining Solitary turned aside,
Whether through manly instinct to conceal
