Nor Love’s own sigh, to rose-tints might restore!

Her graceful ringlets o’er a bier were spread.

Weep for the young, the beautiful,—the dead!

THE BIRD’S RELEASE.

[The Indians of Bengal and of the coast of Malabar bring cages filled with birds to the graves of their friends, over which they set the birds at liberty. This custom is alluded to in the description of Virginia’s funeral.—See Paul and Virginia.]

Go forth! for she is gone!

With the golden light of her wavy hair,

She is gone to the fields of the viewless air;

She hath left her dwelling lone!

Her voice hath pass’d away!