Fondly I gazed on that lofty brow—
“What can be lovelier—brighter now?”
Yet Echo replied to her lute’s soft lay,
“The sweetest and fairest must fade away!”
I wandered forth, ’neath the moon’s pale ray,
Where the dead in their last long slumbers lay;
Softly and coldly her pure beams shone
On the mouldering urn and the old grey stone;
And I sadly sigh’d, “Must the young and brave,