Far from the shadow of th’ ancestral hall,
A lonely bed is theirs, whose smiles were hope to all!
LXI.
But life flows on, and bears us with its tide,
Nor may we, lingering, by the slumberers dwell,
Though they were those once blooming at our side
In youth’s gay home! Away! what sound’s deep swell
Comes on the wind?—It is an empire’s knell,
Slow, sad, majestic, pealing through the night!
For the last time speaks forth the solemn bell