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“We lived in sumptuous palaces —

Death seemed an idle tale; And to a sweet philosophy

We spread our silken sail.

“I thought not that the loved could die,

Nor that the fair could fade ;
And I bound myself with a holy vow

To a young Athenian maid.

“We loved — we lived for seven short years

In a dream of wild delight;
And beautiful young creatures grew,

Like sweet flowers, in our sight.

“I dreamed not that the fair could fade,

Nor that the loved could die ! But the whirlwind came when day was calm,

And swept in fury by!

“My children, those fair tender things,

Faded like summer-snow;
I buried them 'neath a flowery sod,

In a wild amaze of woe.

“I had not seen the pallid face

Of awful death before,
And back I went to my stately house

With new and solemn lore.

“The pestilence had done its work

The glory of my life was gone!
And my young, sweet Athenian wife ·

Lay dead before the set of sun!

“I was a man, and so I mourned;

And when they preached philosophy, In my great grief, I drove them forth,

And, as a child, lay down to die!

“Body and soul they both were weak,

And it was in the city said, That like a madman or a fool

I made my mourning for the dead.

“The young, the happy shunned my door ;

I sate alone from morn till night; And at my lean and drooping form

Men gazed as at a fearful sight.

“At length, by chance, I met a man,

Old and despised, and very poor; A man of a most righteous life,

Who yet asked alms from door to door.

“He was my comforter — from him

I learned a faith that saved my soul;The blessings of the Christian's hope

He gave me, and my mind grew whole.

“I saw that in God's righteous will

I had been smitten, and I bent
My knee at length, and even gave thanks

To Him for that great chastisement.

“ From that good time I spent my days

Among the' afflicted of man's race; To dungeons, and to battle-fields

I passed, a minister of grace.

“The blessing of the Holy One

Went with me to each distant land; And amid shipwreck, strife and foes,

My soul was strengthened by his hand.

“But ere my noon of life was o'er,

The Merciful saw meet to bless His servant with a peaceful death,

In the far Syrian wilderness;

“ Near a small church, that from the days

Of the Apostles had stood pure; Among their dead they laid my bones,

With all old rites of sepulture.

“But hark!—the third cock crows aloud !

Mother, thy race is well nigh run, And the palm in heaven grows green for thee!Farewell!--we meet at set of sun!”



Στένω, στένω σε, δισσα και τριπλά δορός
Λύθις πρός αλκήν, και διαρπαγάς δόμων,
Και πυρ εναυγάζουσαν αιστωτήριον.

Lycophr. Cassandr, v. 69.


“ They hurried to the feast,

The warrior, and the priest,
And the gay maiden with her jewelled brów;

The minstrel's harp and voice

Said • Triumph and rejoice!' One only mourned !-many are mourning now!


«« « Peace! startle not the light

With the wild dreams of night:'-
So spake the Princes in their pride and joy,

When I in their dull ears

Shrieked forth my tale of tears, • Woe to the gorgeous city, woe to Troy!'

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Painted by George Jones RA

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