Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/79

"Her farewell words to me were kind,
    They flow'd in silver tone,
But ah!—the tear-drop of the soul
    Was shed for thee alone.—

"If in tomorrow's bloody fray,
    I slumber with the slain,
And thou survive, with joy to greet
    Our native vales again,

"Oh bear to her so long adored
    My dying wish,"—in vain
To weave the tissued thoughts he strove,
    For tears fell down like rain.

Thrice Merovee the mourner's hand
    Wrung hard, and would have said,
"Fear not that Love's insidious shaft
    Shall strike our friendship dead!"—

He thrice essay'd,—yet still was mute;—
    Then loosed his bossy shield,
And laid him down as if to sleep
    Upon the verdant field.

He laid him down,—but wakeful wo
    His weary heart amazed,
And by the pale moon's waning ray
    On Carloman he gazed.

The pastimes of their boyish years,
    The confidence of youth,
And holy Friendship's treasured vow
    Of everlasting truth,