« PreviousContinue »
Of parted friends and lovers; and, when
She breathes upon them, and they love no
The pretty little village of Bremhill, in North Wilts, boasts of a Parochial History which will engage the attention of any reader who may happen to take it up, how indifferent soever he be to its location, or whether scholar or antiquary, poet or divine, or all combined, or none of all these. Perhaps, in the next edition, the following lines may be inserted, to afford one instance more that the benevolent Vicar disdains not to employ his muse, gifted as she is, in recording the short and simple annals of the poor.
WAS BORNE TO HER LAST REST
26TH OF SEPTEMBER, 1835: aged 66.
DEPARTING IN FAITH AND HOPE FROM THE
TROUBLES AND TRIALS OF THE WORLD.
THIS STONE WAS PLACED TO HER MEMORY BY
AN AFFECTIONATE DAUGHTER.
Oh, my poor mother! now that thou art gone,
But thou didst meekly walk with God; and
Will dry the tear that falls on this thy sod.
W. L. B.-lapidem debit et inscripsit.
DEATH OF A LITTLE GIRL
OF MORE THAN ORDINARY PROMISE.
Prima i migliori, e lascia star i rei.
Heaven has ta'en back the blessing that it
Young, pure, and beautiful, she sank into the
The brightest flame burns fast and disappears;
The violet sheds her fragrance for a day;
Leaves the coarse weed to weather out the
W. H. H.
Rome, December, 1825.
Knights of King Arthur's court, your wondrous course is run;
Your deeds are all forbye; your fields are fought and won;
No longer, e'en as phantoms, do ye glide
And shrunk to glow-worm light your beacon blaze of glory;
There stands no remnant now of Carduel's
Nor one fair chamber of Garde Joyeuse'
Tristram and Isonde wake no int'rest now,
Her broken fealty, and his useless vow!