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Come from thy darkness! all too long

Thou lingerest in the grave;
Thou, the destroyer of the strong,

The powerful to save : Come from thy darkness ;-set again · Thy saffron sandal on the plain;

And bid thy golden sceptre gleam

Its wonted radiance yet;
And let thy bright tiara beam

Around thy locks of jet;
And play the king upon this spot,
As when-alas! thou listenest not!

Thy might hath feeted from the day;

Thy very name is hid;
Yet pride hath heaped upon thy clay

A ponderous Pyramid;
And thou art kingly still, and blest
In a right royal place of rest.

O what is this to thee or thine ?

Some traveller idly stalks
Around the tomb of all thy line,

And tramples as he walks
With rebel foot, and reckless eye,
The dust which once was Majesty.

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Thy portrait and thine eulogy

Traced by some artist hand,
And all that now remains of thee,

Dragged to a distant land,
Must be a thing for girls to know,
A jest, a marvel, and a show!

Hail, happy one !—but not for me,

So poor, so little worth,
May such a spacious temple be;

Nor let my mother Earth,
When I am laid in my cold bed,
Lie heavy on my slumbering head :-

Give me a low and humble mound

In some sequestered dell! Where Zephyr shall make music round

My buried dust shall dwell. There shall the turf with dew be wet; And while one natural rivulet

Shall wander on its way, and sing

Beneath the twilight beam, Cypress and myrtle both shall spring

Beside its bubbling stream; And Memory shall scatter there The laurel I have longed to wear.

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