Page:Songs of the Affections.pdf/184

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", Warrior, arm! and wear thy plume   On a proud and fearless brow! I am the lord of the lonely tomb,    And a mightier one than thou!

"Bid thy soul's love farewell, young chief,   Bid her a long farewell! Like the morning's dew shall pass that grief —    Thou comest with me to dwell!

"Thy bark may rush through the foaming deep,   Thy steed o'er the breezy hill; But they bear thee on to a place of sleep,    Narrow, and cold, and chill!"