Page:Translations from Camoens; and Other Poets.pdf/68



RAVE spirit! mourned with fond regret, Lost in life's pride, in valour's noon, Oh! who could deem thy star should set So darkly and so soon?

Fatal, though bright, the fire of mind, Which marked and closed thy brief career, And the fair wreath, by Hope entwined, Lies withered on thy bier.

The soldier's death hath been thy doom, The soldier's tear thy meed shall be; Yet, son of war! a prouder tomb Might Fate have reared for thee.

Thou shouldst have died, O high-souled chief! In those bright days of glory fled, When triumph so prevailed o'er grief, We scarce could mourn the dead.