 | I. |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
323
XX. TO S. C.
‘Sleep dwell within thine eyes, peace in thy breast:’To-night the memory of thy native hills,
To-night the charm of unforgotten rills,
Be kind to fevered nerves and thoughts opprest!
Yet, if the mourners are most surely blest;
If He, who only wounds to heal us, wills
That thou shouldst have thy load of twofold ills,
And, shorn of strength, in vain solicit rest;
Then like a cross thy patient hands put forth,
And gently welcome that which God accords:
And let the sharpest of terrestrial swords
Transfix, unblamed, the meekest heart on earth:
Nor Sleep nor Death repose so perfect gives
As in entire Submission wakes and lives.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |