In hope or fear, in toil or pain,
The weary day have mortals pass’d;
Now, dreams of bliss! be yours to reign,
And all your spells around them cast;
Steal from their hearts the pang, their eyes the tear,
And lift the veil that hides a brighter sphere.
Oh, bear your softest balm to those
Who fondly, vainly, mourn the dead!
To them that world of peace disclose
Where the bright soul is fled: