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When vexing thoughts within me rise,
And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies
Yet He who vouchsafed to bear
The sickening anguish of despair
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry,
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.

When mourning o'er some stone I bend,
Which covers all that was a friend;
And from his voice, his hand, his smile,
Divides me for a little while;

Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed,
For thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead.

And O! when I have safely past
Through every conflict but the last;
Still, still unchanging, watch beside
My painful bed for thou hast died;
Then point to realms of cloudless day,
And wipe the latest tears away.




When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,
The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And storied urns record who rests below;
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,

Not what he was, but what he should have been=
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master's own,
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonoured falls; unnoticed all his worth,
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth:
While man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.
Oh man thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power,
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust.
Degraded mass of animated dust!

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Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit !
By nature vile, ennobled but by name,

Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.
Ye! who perchance behold this simple urn,
Pass on-it honours none you wish to mourn;
To mark a friend's remains these stones arise,
I never knew but one, and here he lies.



From the French.


Star of the brave! whose beam hath shed,
Such glory o'er the quick and dead-

Thou radiant and adored deceit !

Which millions rushed in arms to greet→
Wild meteor of immortal birth!

Why rise in Heaven to set on Earth?



Souls of slain heroes formed thy rays; Eternity flashed through thy blaze; The music of thy martial sphere Was fame on high, and honour here; And thy light broke on human eyes, Like a volcano of the skies.


Like lava rolled thy stream of blood, And swept down empires with its flood; Earth rocked beneath thee to her base, As thou didst lighten through all space; And the shorn Sun grew dim in air,

And set while thou wert dwelling there.


Before thee rose, and with thee grew,
A rainbow of the loveliest hue,

Of three bright colours, each divine,
And fit for that celestial sign;

For freedom's hand had blended them,
Like tints in an immortal gem.

One tint was of the sunbeam's dyes;
One, the blue depth of Seraphs' eyes;
One, the pure Spirit's veil of white
Had robed in radiance of its light:
The three so mingled did beseem
The texture of a heavenly dream.


Star of the brave! thy ray is pale,
And darkness must again prevail !
But, oh thou rainbow of the free!
Our tears and blood must flow for thee.
When thy bright promise fades away,
Our life is but a load of clay.


And freedom hallows with her tread
The silent cities of the dead;
For beautiful in death are they
Who proudly fall in her array;
And soon, oh Goddess! may we be
For evermore with them or thee!


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