She sleeps where sleep the proudest;
And there are eyes that will weep burning show’rs,
And there are sighs will wear away the hours
When the heart’s grief is loudest.
Yet mourn her not, she had her day of pride,
The East’s dread sovereign chose her for his bride;
The sunlight rested on her favour’d brow:
Like a fair blossom blighted in its bloom,
She filled an early, but a cherished tomb,
And where the mighty linger, rests She now!