Most like a warrior's, to the martial dirge Our treasure for a while; And if a tear steal down, If human anguish o'er the shaded brow Pass shuddering, when the handful of pure earth If at our brother's name Once and again the thought, 'For ever gone,' Thou know'st us calm at heart. One look, and we have seen our last of thee, 45 50 Till we too sleep, and our long sleep be o'er : 55 Thou, who canst change the heart and raise the dead! As Thou art by to soothe our parting hour, The poet's star-tuned harp to sweep, 1Ο What do we give to our beloved? And bitter memories to make 15 The whole earth blasted for our sake: 'Sleep soft, beloved!' we sometimes say, Who have no tune to charm away 20 Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep: Shall break the happy slumber, when Ay, men may wonder while they scan For me, my heart that erst did go 40 That sees through tears the mummers leap, 45 Would now its wearied vision close, Would childlike on his love repose, Who giveth his beloved, sleep. And friends, dear friends, when it shall be 50 And round my bier ye come to weep, Say, 'Not a tear must o'er her fall! Elizabeth Barrett Browning. CCLVIII TO THE MEMORY OF MY VENERABLE GRANDFATHER-IN-LAW, SAMUEL MARTIN, WHO WAS TAKEN FROM US IN THE SIXTY-EIGHTH YEAR OF HIS MINISTRY. Fare well man's dark last journey o'er the deep, Reared on thy knees with wisdom's heavenly food, Edward Irving. 5 10 CCLIX THE EVENING CLOUD. A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun; To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given; CCLX NIGHT AND DEATH. John Wilson. Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew 5 10 5 Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed Blanco White. PART THE FIFTH. CCLXI THE FORSAKEN MERMAN. Come, dear children, let us away; Now my brothers call from the bay; This way, this way. Call her once before you go. Call once yet, In a voice that she will know : 'Margaret! Margaret!' Children's voices should be dear (Call once more) to a mother's ear: Children's voices, wild with pain: Surely she will come again. Call her once, and come away. 'Mother dear, we cannot stay.' The wild white horses foam and fret. Margaret! Margaret! Come, dear children, come away down. Call no more. One last look at the white-walled town, 5 10 15 20 25 And the little gray church on the windy shore, |