Page:Translations from Camoens; and Other Poets.pdf/64



Oh! hadst thou still on earth remained, Vision of beauty fair, as brief! How soon thy brightness had been stained With passion or with grief! Now not a sullying breath can rise, To dim thy glory in the skies.

We rear no marble o'er thy tomb, No sculptured image there shall mourn; Ah! fitter far the vernal bloom Such dwelling to adorn. Fragrance, and flowers, and dews, must be The only emblems meet for thee.

Thy grave shall be a blessed shrine, Adorned with Nature's brightest wreath, Each glowing season shall combine Its incense there to breathe; And oft, upon the midnight air, Shall viewless harps be murmuring there.

And oh! sometimes in visions blest, Sweet spirit! visit our repose,