Page 563

Fitz-Greene Halleck. (1790–1867) (continued)

5831

    They love their land because it is their own,
  And scorn to give aught other reason why;
Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
  And think it kindness to his Majesty.

Connecticut.

5832

This bank-note world.

Alnwick Castle.

5833

Lord Stafford mines for coal and salt,
The Duke of Norfolk deals in malt,
The Douglas in red herrings.

Alnwick Castle.

Charles Wolfe. (1791–1823)

5834

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corse to the rampart we hurried.

The Burial of Sir John Moore.

5835

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.

The Burial of Sir John Moore.

5836

    Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
  From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
  But we left him alone with his glory.

The Burial of Sir John Moore.

5837

    If I had thought thou couldst have died,
  I might not weep for thee;
But I forgot, when by thy side,
  That thou couldst mortal be.

To Mary.

5838

    Yet there was round thee such a dawn
  Of light, ne’er seen before,
As fancy never could have drawn,
  And never can restore.

To Mary.

5839

    Go, forget me! why should sorrow
  O’er that brow a shadow fling?
Go, forget me, and to-morrow
  Brightly smile and sweetly sing!
Smile,—though I shall not be near thee;
Sing,—though I shall never hear thee!

Go, forget me!

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