Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 21 and 22 1827.pdf/7



Time cannot teach forgetfulness When Grief's full heart is fed by Fame.

Thou shouldst have slept beneath the stately pines, And with th' ancestral trophies of thy race; Thou that hast found, where alien tombs and shrines Speak of the past, a lonely dwelling-place! Far from thy brethren hath thy couch been spread, Thou young bright Stranger midst the mighty Dead!

Yet to thy name a noble rite was given! Banner and dirge met proudly o'er thy grave, Under that old and glorious Grecian heaven, Which unto death so oft hath led the brave; And thy dust blends with mould heroic there, With all that sanctifies th’ inspiring air.

Vain voice of Fame! Sad sound for those that weep! For her, the mother, in whose bosom lone Thy childhood dwells! Whose thoughts a record keep Of smiles departed and sweet accents gone; Of all thine early grace and gentle worth— A vernal promise, faded now from earth!

But a bright memory claims a proud regret; A lofty sorrow finds its own deep springs Of healing balm; and She hath treasures yet, Whose soul can number with Love's holy things A name like thine!—Now past all cloud or spot, A gem is hers, laid up where change is not. F. H.