Page:Felicia Hemans in the New Monthly Magazine Volume 8 1823.pdf/14



They bent no more the forest-bow, They arm'd not with the warrior-band, The moons waned o'er them dim and slow— —They left us for the Spirit's land! Beneath our pines yon greensward heap Shows where the Restless found their sleep.

Son of the Stranger! if at eve Silence be midst us in thy place, Yet go not where the mighty leave The strength of battle and of chase! Let no vain dreams thy heart beguile, —Oh! seek thou not the Fountain-Isle!F. H.