Like those we mourn for, we must soon remove;
No trace of us on Selma shall be found,
Save the green mound that marks our sleep profound.
Soft are the slumbers of that bed of peace:
Let then Malvina’s flowing sorrow cease;
Nor weep for friends whose actions were so bright,
Whose steps were mark’d with beams of heavenly light.
MALVINA.
Now night descends with all her dusky clouds,
And ocean in her sable mantle shrouds;