« AnteriorContinuar »
And sudden from the yawning ground
The astonished dead awake,
To waft thee to the skies,
To bear the immortal prize.
Oh! might I choose how I should die,
And pass above;
Whom most I love:
And if a tear fell on my face
From some fond eye,
I would it fell inspired by grace,
By faith each sigh:
When friends depart,
Not reach the heart.
Near me a soft low voice should raise
Some holy air;
Or verse of prayer.
In yon bright seat,
Were hymn notes sweet.
The soul all calm ;
Here nothing could be found appalling
Death like a balm !
In Death like this to pass away,
How sweet a thing!
And even in its
WRITTEN AFTER VISITING WESTON FAVELL, AND THE
HOUSE, DEATH-CHAMBER, CHURCH, AND
TOMB OF HERVEY.
From Granta's classic shades, and antique tow'rs,
To seek that solemn, consecrated spot!
Where oft when red-wing'd dawn flush'd o'er the
east, Ere slumb'ring hinds had left the moss-roof'd shed, His heav'nly mind enjoy'd the mental feast, While blushing Flora's dulcet page he read.
In ev'ry star-like gem, or op'ning bell,
The flow'ry tribes to his deep-searching eye,
The rolling systems of the blue-coped sky,
Celestial worlds, his penetrating gaze
For him the blazing comet's devious course
For him terrific Death new forms assu