 | Orta-undis, and other poems |  |
99
LAST GIFT.
Illustrious thy name shall be
To all who love in future years:
These little songs I sing to thee,
Thy tears,
Thy many griefs will I bequeath
To uncreated heirs.
To all who love in future years:
These little songs I sing to thee,
Thy tears,
Thy many griefs will I bequeath
To uncreated heirs.
Now, hidden are the quiet ways
That bring thee to my bosom nigh;
And when is spent thy term of days,
Thou'lt die:
Then shall thy virtues live in praise
That riches cannot buy.
That bring thee to my bosom nigh;
And when is spent thy term of days,
Thou'lt die:
Then shall thy virtues live in praise
That riches cannot buy.
100
Night shall descend upon thy eyes,
Thy lips no more repeat my name;
But all the virtuous and wise
Shall claim
Thee for their sister:—See, they'll say—
Her whom he raised to fame!
Thy lips no more repeat my name;
But all the virtuous and wise
Shall claim
Thee for their sister:—See, they'll say—
Her whom he raised to fame!
1847.
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