Page:Felicia Hemans in The Literary Gazette 1823.pdf/3



And was thy home, pale wither'd thing, Beneath the rich blue southern sky? Wert thou a nurseling of the Spring, The winds and suns of glorious Italy?

Those suns in golden light, e'en now, Look o'er the Poet's lovely grave; Those winds are breathing soft, but Thou Answering their whisper, there no more shalt wave!

The flowers o'er Posilippo's brow May cluster in their purple bloom, But on the mantling ivy-bough Thy breezy place is void, by Virgil's tomb.

Thy place is void!—Oh! none on earth, This crowded earth, may so remain, Save that which souls of loftiest birth Leave, when they part, their brighter home to gain.

Another leaf ere now hath sprung On the green stem which once was thine; —When shall another strain be sung Like His, whose dust hath made that spot a shrine! H.