A gallery of famous English and American poets . , Cambyses, Marched armies oer thy tomb, with thundering tread,Oerthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis,— And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder. When the o-igantic Mcmnon fell asunder ? If the tombs secrets may not be confessed. The nature of thy private life unfold !A heart hath throbbed beneath that leathern breast, And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled:Have children climbed those knees, and kissed that face ?What was thy name and station, age and race? Statue of flesh !—Immortal of- the. dead ! Imperishable tjpe of evanescence 1Posthumo
A gallery of famous English and American poets . , Cambyses, Marched armies oer thy tomb, with thundering tread,Oerthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis,— And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder. When the o-igantic Mcmnon fell asunder ? If the tombs secrets may not be confessed. The nature of thy private life unfold !A heart hath throbbed beneath that leathern breast, And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled:Have children climbed those knees, and kissed that face ?What was thy name and station, age and race? Statue of flesh !—Immortal of- the. dead ! Imperishable tjpe of evanescence 1Posthumous man,—who quittst thy narrow bed. And standest undecayed within our presence !Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning,When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning! Wliy should this worthless tegument endure, If its undyingguest be lost forever?Oh ! let us keep the soul embalmed and pure, In living virtue,—that when both must sever,Although corruption may our frame consume,The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom!. ?L/ It 0 or^^ MOORE. I SAW FKOM THE BEACH. I SAW from the beach, when the morning was shining,A bark oer the waters move gloriously on ; I came when the snn oer that beach was declining,The bark was still there, but the waters were gone. 51 201 202 MOOEE. I Aud such is the fate of our hfes early promise,So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known; Each wave that we danced on at morning ebbs from leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone. Neer tell me of glories serenely adorning The close of our day, the calm eve of our night ;—Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of Morn-ingHer clouds and her tears are worth Evenings bestlight. Oh, who would not welcome that moments returning,When passion first waked a new life through his soul, like the wood that grows precious in burn-inGave out all its sweets to loves exquisite flame? WERE NOT THE SINFUL MARYS TEARS. Were not the sinful Marys tearsAn offering wor
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksu, booksubjectenglishpoetry
