Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/122

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With a faded wreath of oak-leaves bound, They hung o'er the dust of the far-renown’d, Whom the bright Valkyriur's warning voice Had call'd to the banquet where gods rejoice, And the rich mead flows in light.

With a beating heart his son drew near, And still rang the verse in his thrilling ear, —"Soft be thy step through the silence deep, And move not the urn in the house of sleep,     For the viewless have fearful might!"