Home of the mighty! thou art lone,
The noonday of thy pride is gone,
And, midst thy solitude profound,
A step shall echo like unearthly sound!
“From thy cold hearths no festal blaze
Shall fill the hall with ruddy light,
Nor welcome with convivial rays
Some pilgrim of the night.
But there shall grass luxuriant spread,
As o’er the dwellings of the dead;