 | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly |  |
36
XLII.
Vain the world's grandeur to that hallow'd roofWhere sate our fathers many a gentle year;
All round us memory; at our feet the proof,
How deep the grave holds all we treasure here:
Nay, where we bend, still trembling on our ear
The voice whose parting rent life's loveliest ties;
And who demands us all, heart, thought, tear, prayer?
Ev'n He who saith “Mercy, not sacrifice,”
Cares He for mortal pomp, whose footstool is the skies!
| The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly | |