On the holy and profound repose.
Oh! they came o’er the warrior’s breast
Like a glorious anthem of the blest;
And fear and sorrow died away
Before the full majestic lay.
He enter’d the secluded fane,
Which sent forth that inspiring strain;
He gazed—the hallow’d pile’s array
Was that of some high festal day;
Wreaths of all hues its pillars bound,