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Page 147 - But these are deeds which should not pass away, And names that must not wither, though the Earth Forgets her empires with a just decay, The enslavers and the enslaved — their death and birth...
Page 112 - ... Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more. No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells : The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives.
Page ix - The sword he liked the best. But calm — most calm was all his face, A solemn smile was on his lips, His eyes were closed in pensive grace — A most serene eclipse ! Ye would have said some sainted sprite Had left its passionless abode, — Some man, whose prayer at morn and night Had duly risen to God. What thoughts had...
Page 150 - OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH I breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade. Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid : Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
Page xiv - ALL that's bright must fade, — The brightest still the fleetest ; All that's sweet was made, But to be lost when sweetest. Stars that shine and fall ; — The flower that drops in springing ; . These, alas ! are types of all To which our hearts are clinging.
Page 116 - FAREWELL ! — but whenever you welcome the hour, That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower, Then think of the friend who once welcom'd it too, And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you.
Page 77 - Oh, more or less than man — in high or low, Battling with nations, flying from the field ; Now making monarchs' necks thy footstool, now More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield : An empire thou couldst crush, command, rebuild, But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor, However deeply in men's spirits...
Page 116 - To the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup, Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright, My soul, happy friends, shall be with you that night; Shall join in your revels, your sports, and...
Page 139 - Who didst not change through all the past, And canst not alter now. The love where Death has set his seal, Nor age can chill, nor rival steal, Nor falsehood disavow: And, what were worse, thou canst not see Or wrong, or change, or fault in me.
Page 22 - By nature vile, ennobled but by name, Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame. Ye ! who perchance behold this simple urn, Pass on— it honours none you wish to mourn : To mark a friend's remains these stones arise ; I never knew but one, — and here he lies.

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