V.
Oh, many a bright existence we have seen
Quench’d in the glow and fulness of its prime;
And many a cherish’d flower, ere now, hath been
Cropt ere its leaves were breathed upon by time.
We have lost heroes in their noon of pride,
Whose fields of triumph gave them but a bier;
And we have wept when soaring genius died,
Check’d in the glory of his mid career!
But here our hopes were centred—all is o’er: