Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/43

Did Love yon arch of marble rear
To mark the hallow'd ground?
And bid those doric columns spring
With clustering roses crown'd?
Say,—did it come with gifts of peace
To deck thy couch of gloom?
And like relenting Athens bless
Its guiltless martyr's tomb?

No!—no! the stern and callous breast
Sear'd by Ambition's flame,
No kindlings of remorse confest
At thy remember'd name:
Alike the Corsican abjur'd
With harsh and ingrate tone,
The beauty and the love that pav'd
His pathway to a throne.

He turn'd in apathy to gaze
Upon his Austrian bride,
Nor heard dark fate's prophetic sigh
That warn'd the fall of pride;
Saw not the vision'd battle shock
That cleft his Babel fame,
Nor mark'd on far Helena's rock
A sepulchre of shame.

France!—France! by thy indignant zeal
Were fitting honors paid,
And did thy weeping fondness sooth
The unrequited shade?