VI. And oft your willing vows renew around the sacred board, And break the bread and pour the wine in memory of your Lord: To drink with me the grape's fresh blood to you shall yet be given, Fresh from the deathless Vine that blooms in blest abodes of Heaven!" "BROTHER! thou art come from the land of the blest; II. "I have wandered indeed, an Angel-guest, III. "How radiant thy hair, with its golden hue! Upon the soft fringe of its silken shade." IV. "Brother! I have been beyond that bright sky, Where no tear is shed-where is heard no sigh;Know these belong to the mortal coil To earth, and her children of care and toil." V. 'Ah! why did thy lingering spirit not wait At the portal of heaven—at its golden gate? I have wept-I have watched—I have waited for thee; Then give me thy wings-let me soar, and be free!" VI. "I may not, I may not;-far stronger the wing On which thy freed spirit hereafter shall spring;- INSCRIPTION ON A BURIAL-GROUND. 'The resting-place of the Dead, waiting for the Living.' BY W. M. HETHERINGTON, A. M. I. HERE rest the dead! silent and deep, No lustre noon-day suns can shed, II. Art thou a chief of daring breast, Of lofty brow, and kindling eye? Thy comrades wait thee here. III. Art thou a king, a hero, one At the dread bidding of whose word The grizzly War-Fiend buckles on His panoply, and bares his sword? Halt, mighty Conqueror! blench thy cheek, Quell the red terrors of thine eye; Here earth's proud Thunderers, silent, weak, To wait thy coming lie. IV. Art thou a man of loftiest mind, The shadow of a name. V. Art thou a youth of gentle breast? VI. Woman! young mother! tender wife! Fair angels of the happy hearth; The dead beloved await thee here- The grave will have its own! VII. Thou too, bright blooming beauty! thou, That liquid eye, that marble brow, That cheek where smile Morn's loveliest dyes, Oh! veil those charms! they too must share, Alas! the universal doom; The beauteous dead, where are they! where ?They wait thee in the tomb ! VIII. Here rest the dead! here wait the hour When the last sob of living breath Shall pass away beneath the power Of that grim phantom, mightiest Death: They rest in hope, waiting till He Who died, and lives for aye, shall come, To give them immortality, And call them to his home! |