 | Scenes from Scripture with Other Poems |  |
218
EPITAPH FOR PETRARCH.
Here, let the Poet fix his burning eyes;Here, all that Death can claim of Petrarch, lies!
On this proud Shrine hangs no sepulchral gloom;
He sleeps within the trophy, not the tomb!
He loved, was loved: and Passion's vestal fire
Shot loftier splendours round his golden Lyre;
And still the strings the thrilling tones prolong,
And the witched World still loves the immortal song.
| Scenes from Scripture with Other Poems | |