-A young fair form, whose nymph-like grace And the eye, in its clear soft darkness meek, But how stood She, the Forsaken, there, Struck by the lightning of swift despair? Still, as amazed with grief, she stood, And her cheek to her heart sent back the blood, And there came from her quivering lip no word— As it dropt from her hand at her rival's feet, What more remaineth? her day was done; Like the rich sound from the shatter'd string, Whence the gush of sweetness no more might spring! As an eagle struck in his upward flight, So was her hope from its radiant height, She had moved to the echoing sound of fame- Silently melted her life away, As ye have seen a young flower decay, Or a lamp that hath swiftly burn'd, expire, Or a bright stream shrink from the summer's fire, Leaving its channel all dry and mute Woe for the Broken Heart and Lute! THE BURIAL IN THE DESERT. How weeps yon gallant Band O'er him their valour could not save! And he, the beautiful and brave, Now sleeps in Egypt's sand. WILSON. IN the shadow of the Pyramid A field of death survey'd. The blood-red sky above us Was darkening into night, And the Arab watching silently Our sad and hurried rite. The voice of Egypt's river Came hollow and profound, And one lone palm-tree, where we stood, Rock'd with a shivery sound: While the shadow of the Pyramid When the battle-day was done, And the Desert's parting sun A field of death survey'd. The fathers of our brother Were borne to knightly tombs, With torch-light and with anthem-note, And many waving plumes: But he, the last and noblest Of that high Norman race, With a few brief words of soldier-love Was gathered to his place; In the shadow of the Pyramid, When the battle-day was done, And the Desert's parting sun A field of death survey❜d. But let him, let him slumber By the old Egyptian wave! It is well with those who bear their fame Unsullied to the grave! When brightest names are breathed on, When loftiest fall so fast, We would not call our brother back On dark days to be cast, |