Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/43

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Ranged in a charnel drear and dim A lifeless throng appear, With blacken'd brow, and rigid limb Embalm'd by frost severe.

Strangers were there from many a clime Upright in firm array, Bold men who fell before their time, The Avalanche's prey.

They placed her in her niche of stone With meek, reclining head, And there her beauty strangely shone A pearl among the dead.

She seem'd like pale, sepulchral lamp, To light that spectred gloom, Unquench'd by vapours dense and damp, That haunt the mouldering tomb.

And now the orphan found a home Where those lone arches bend, Throughout that calm, monastic dome The favorite and the friend.

Soft cradled in their peaceful arms His evening dream would fleet, And morn that roused his opening charms Renew'd their kindness sweet.

For they whom no domestic ties With gentle force comprest, Perceived a new affection rise To glad the hermit breast.