Well, some may hate, and some may scorn,
And some may quite forget thy name;
But my sad heart must ever
Thy ruined hopes, thy blighted fame!'Twas thus I thought, an hour ago,
Even weeping o'er that wretch's woe;
One word turned back my gushing tears,
And lit my altered eye with sneers.
Then "Bless the friendly dust," I said,"That hides thy unlamented head!
Vain as thou wert, and weak as vain,
The slave of Falsehood,
Pride, and Pain—My heart has nought akin to thine;
Thy soul is powerless over mine."But these were thoughts that vanished too;
Unwise, unholy, and untrue:
Do I despise the timid deer,
Because his limbs are fleet with fear?
Or, would I mock the wolf's death-howl,
Because his form is gaunt and foul?
Or, hear with joy the leveret's cry,
Because it cannot bravely die?
No!
Then above his
Let Pity's heart as tender be;
Say, "Earth, lie lightly on that breast,
And, kind Heaven, grant that spirit rest!"
