Page:National Lyrics.pdf/59

Rh

'Tis not enough, oh! no! To hide the scene of anguish from his eyes; Still must our silent band Around him watchful stand, And on the mourner ceaseless care bestow, That his ear catch not grief's funereal cries.

Yet, yet hope is not dead, All is not lost below, While yet the gods have pity on our woe. Oft when all joy is fled, Heaven lends support to those Who on its care in pious hope repose. Then to the blessed skies Let our submissive prayers in chorus rise.