THE DEATH OF REICHSTADT. No! round her heart Children of humbler, happier lineage twined, Thou art at rest! Child of Ambition's martyr:-life had been Of doubt and dread and suffering at the best; For thou wert one, whose path, in these dark times, Would lead to sorrows-it may be to crimes. C 25 26 THE DEATH OF REICHSTADT. Thou art at rest! The idle sword has worn its sheath away,- And they, who with vain tyranny comprest Thy soul's high yearnings, now forget their fear, And fling ambition's purple o'er thy bier! TO AN OLD MAN. BY PHILIP FRENEAU. WHY, dotard, wouldst thou longer groan Beneath a weight of years and woThy youth is lost, thy pleasures flown, And age proclaims, ""Tis time to go." To willows sad and weeping yews To summer suns and winter moons Prepare to bid a long adieu, Autumnal seasons shall return And spring shall bloom, but not for you. Why so perplexed with cares and toil "Tis but a thin, a thirsty soil, A barren and a bleak abode. C⭑ 28 TO AN OLD MAN. Constrained to dwell with pain and care, The torments of life's closing year. Subjected to perpetual ills A thousand deaths around us grow: Cold, nipping winds your fruits assail, The breeze, that gently ought to blow, The mountains waste, the shores decay, And Nature says, that all must die. Yon flaming lamp, the source of light, TO AN OLD MAN. And leave the world to mother Night, What now is young, must soon be old, How bright the morn her course begun, Now hope the longing soul employs, Those monarchs proud that havoc spread, (While pensive REASON dropped a tear,) Those monarchs have to darkness fled, And ruin bounds their mad career. The grandeur of this earthly round, 29 |