Which nerv'd his journey and had led him home.
Home?—Yes! Give thanks, ye, who still travel on,
Oft startled, as some pilgrim from your side
Falls through the arches of Time's broken bridge
Without a warning, and is seen no more—
Give thanks that he is safe,—at home,—in heaven.
Back to the grave, from whence ye scarce have turn'd,
Break up the clods on which the dews of night
But twice had rested. Lo! another comes.