In the soft evening, when the winds are stilled,
Sinks where his islands of refreshment lie,
And leaves the smile of his departure spread
O’er the warm-colored heaven and ruddy mountain head.
“Why weep ye then for him, who, having won
The bound of man’s appointed years, at last,
Life’s blessings all enjoyed, life’s labors done,
Serenely to his final rest has passed? [I cannot agree to the next two lines.]
While the soft memory of his virtues yet
Lingers like twilight hues when the bright sun is set.