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10 ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade Where cold and unhonor'd his relics are laid: Sad, silent and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head!

But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps, And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.