THY DAYS ARE DONE. 1 THY days are done, thy fame begun ; The deeds he did, the fields he won, The freedom he restored! 2. Though thou art fall'n, while we are free Thou shalt not taste of death! The generous blood that flow'd from thee Disdain'd to sink beneath: Within our veins its currents be, Thy spirit on our breath! 3. Thy name, our charging hosts along, Shall be the battle-word! Thy fall, the theme of choral song To weep would do thy glory wrong; RIORS and Chiefs! should the shaft or the sword ce me in leading the host of the Lord, d not the corse, though a king's, in your path: y your steel in the bosoms of Gath! u who art bearing my buckler and bow, uld the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe, etch me that moment in blood at thy feet! e be the doom which they dared not to meet. ewell to others, but never we part, SAUL. 1. THOU whose spell can raise the dead, "King, behold the phantom seer!" Earth yawn'd; he stood the centre of a cloud: His hand was wither'd, and his veins were dry; 2. Why is my sleep disquieted? "Who is he that calls the dead? "Thine to-morrow, when with me "ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE PREACHER." 1. FAME, wisdom, love, and power were mine, I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes, 2. I strive to number o'er what days Which all that life or earth displays There rose no day, there roll'd no hour And not a trapping deck'd my power That gall'd not while it glitter'd. |