The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
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The works of Mrs. Hemans | ||
A FRAGMENT.
Rest on your battle-fields, ye brave!
Let the pines murmur o'er your grave,
Your dirge be in the moaning wave—
We call you back no more!
Let the pines murmur o'er your grave,
Your dirge be in the moaning wave—
We call you back no more!
Oh! there was mourning when ye fell,
In your own vales a deep-toned knell,
An agony, a wild farewell;—
But that hath long been o'er.
In your own vales a deep-toned knell,
An agony, a wild farewell;—
But that hath long been o'er.
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Rest with your still and solemn fame;
The hills keep record of your name,
And never can a touch of shame
Darken the buried brow.
The hills keep record of your name,
And never can a touch of shame
Darken the buried brow.
But we on changeful days are cast,
When bright names from their place fall fast;
And ye that with your glory past,
We cannot mourn you now.
When bright names from their place fall fast;
And ye that with your glory past,
We cannot mourn you now.
The works of Mrs. Hemans | ||