Agnes the Indian Captive. A Poem, in Four Cantos. With Other Poems. By the Rev. John Mitford |
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 | Agnes |  |
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IX.
[I said, that happiest he, who in his grave]
I said, that happiest he, who in his graveFrom this bad world in early youth has fled;
For there is peace and quiet with the dead.
Nor tempest reaches them, nor wind, nor wave,
Nor storms that ever round the living rave
Without, and worse the heart within has bred.
Sin now has dyed earth's beauteous bosom red,
And walks abroad with fearless front, and brave.
Then, God be thanked, our noblest men are gone,
And joy to think they ne'er can rise again;
Our fathers cannot know what we have done,
Their name, their worth, their glory all to stain.
Thrice happy! who their mighty course have run,
Ere shame for us had filled their hearts with pain.
| Agnes | |