O'er-shadowing laurels deck, But lovelier wreaths entwine his neck, Exulting o'er his lot, The dangers he has braved, He clasps the dear one, hails the cot, Which his own valour saved. Daughters of ALBION, weep: On this triumphant plain, Your fathers husbands, brethren sleep, O gently close the eye With knots of sweetest flowers Their winding-sheet perfume; And wash their wounds with true-love showers, And dress them for the tomb. For beautiful in death The WARRIOR's corse appears, Embalmed by fond Affection's breath And bathed in WOMAN's tears. -Give me the death of those Their loveliest mother Earth In her sweet lap who gave them birth THE DIAL This shadow on the Dial's face, Moments, and months, and years away ;— This shadow, which, in every clime, Since light and motion first began, Hath held its course sublime ; What is it?- -Mortal Man! It is the scythe of TIME: It levels all beneath the sky! And still through each succeeding year, Till Nature's race be run, And Time's last shadow shall eclipse the sun. Nor only o'er the Dial's face, This silent phantom, day by day, With slow, unseen, unceasing pace, Steals moments, months, and years away; From hoary rock and aged tree, From proud Palmyra's mouldering walls From Teneriffe, towering o'er the sea, From every blade of grass, it falls; For still where'er a shadow sleeps Like flowerets glittering with the dews of morn, -Ah! soon, beneath the inevitable blow, Then TIME, the Conqueror, will suspend Though TIME's triumphant flight be shown, The truest index on its face Points from the churchyard stone. ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. Friend after friend departs; Beyond the flight of time,— Beyond the reign of death,- There is a world above, Where parting is unknown; A long eternity of love, Formed for the good alone; And faith beholds the dying, here, Thus star by star declines, As morning high and higher shines, Nor sink those stars in empty night, But hide themselves in heaven's own light. CAMPBELL ODE. YE Mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle, and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe, And sweep through the deep, While the stormy tempests blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow. The spirits of your fathers For the deck it was their field of fame, Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, |