Ye sons of Israel, bewail your loss!
He fell, but not like Jacob, ripe in years
And dim of sight, his work accomplished,
Surrounded by his sons and his sons’ sons
To the fifth generation, blessing all
And bidding them farewell; but like to Moses,
Catching a glimpse of the fair promised land
From Pisgah’s top, forbid to enter it,
And there enjoy the fruit of all his toil.
With eye not dimmed, and with his natural force