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the stars of bliss,
ON THE DEATH OF J. R. DRAKE.
F. G. HALLECK.
Green be the turf above thee,
Friend of my better days! None knew thee but to love thee,
Nor named thee but to praise.
Tears fell, when thou wert dying,
From eyes unused to weep, And long, where thou art lying,
Will tears the cold turf steep.
When hearts, whose truth was proven,
Like thine, are laid in earth, There should a wreath be woven
To tell the world their worth.
And I, who woke each morrow,
To clasp thy hand in mine, Who shared thy joy and sorrow,
Whose weal and wo were thine,
It should be mine to braid it
Around thy faded brow; But I've in vain essayed it,
And feel I cannot now.
W. C. BRYANT.
[Thanatopsis-one of the first and best poems of the American Homer—was published in 1817, in the North American Review, and at once attracted the merited attention which has never : batel. This “Hymn of Death” is as sublime and beautiful is a Himalayan peak bathed in the rays of the rising sun. The follow. mg verses were prefixed to Thanatopsis at first:]
JOT that from life, and all its woes,
The hand of death shall set me free;
In the low vale, most peacefully.
“Ah, when I touch time's farthest brink,
kinder solace must attend; It chills my very soul to think
On that dread hour when life must end.
“In vain the flattering verse may breathe
Of ease from pain, and rest from strife;
Inwoven with the strings of life.
“This bitter cup at first was given,
Justice frowned severe;
And. 'tis the eternal doom of Heaven,
That man must view the grave with fear.”
To him who, in the love of Nature, holds