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 |  |
97
BY A MOUNTAIN STREAM AT REST.
By a mountain stream at rest,
We found the warrior lying,
And around his noble breast
A banner clasp'd in dying:
Dark and still
Was every hill,
And the winds of night were sighing.
We found the warrior lying,
And around his noble breast
A banner clasp'd in dying:
Dark and still
Was every hill,
And the winds of night were sighing.
Last of his noble race,
To a lonely bed we bore him;
'Twas a green, still, solemn place,
Where the mountain-heath waves o'er him.
Woods alone
Seem to moan,
Wild streams to deplore him.
To a lonely bed we bore him;
'Twas a green, still, solemn place,
Where the mountain-heath waves o'er him.
Woods alone
Seem to moan,
Wild streams to deplore him.
Yet, from festive hall and lay
Our sad thoughts oft are flying,
To those dark hills far away,
Where in death we found him lying;
On his breast
A banner press'd,
And the night-wind o'er him sighing.
Our sad thoughts oft are flying,
To those dark hills far away,
Where in death we found him lying;
On his breast
A banner press'd,
And the night-wind o'er him sighing.
| The works of Mrs. Hemans | |