(As glorious dreams, for utterance far too high,
Flash through the mist of dim mortality;)
Who does not own, that through thy lightning-beams
A flame unquenchable, unearthly, streams?
That pure, though captive effluence of the sky,
The vestal-ray, the spark that cannot die!
THE HERO’S DEATH.
Life’s parting beams were in his eye,
Life’s closing accents on his tongue,
When round him, pealing to the sky,