A trumpet-sound, a voice from the deep tomb,
Murmuring—Awake!—Arise! But this is past!
Erewhile, and it had seem’d enough of shame
To sleep forgotten in the dust; but now—
Oh, God!—the undying record of my grave
Will be—Here sleeps a traitor!—One, whose crime,
Was—to deem brave men might find nobler weapons
Than the cold murderer’s dagger!
Ans. Oh! my son,
Subdue these troubled thoughts! Thou wouldst not change