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STANZAS.
ANOTHER warning sound! the funeral bell,
Startling the cities of the isle once more,
With measur'd tones of melancholy swell,
Strikes on th' awaken'd heart from shore to shore.
He, at whose coming monarchs sink to dust,
The chambers of our palaces hath trod,
And the long-suffering spirit of the just,
Pure from its ruins, hath return'd to God!
Yet may not England o’er her Father weep;
Thoughts to her bosom crowd, too many, and too deep.
Vain voice of Reason, hush!—they yet must flow,
The unrestrain'd, involuntary tears,
A thousand feelings sanctify the woe,
Rous'd by the glorious shades of vanish'd years.
