She—“Old Mortality” of sepulchres—
Both lay their fingers where our lives have flown,
And touch, in turn, each monumental stone.
Recall, my friend, the days when sent to school,
We framed our first idea of tyrant rule.
Long ere we turned the world’s dark pages o’er,
Glued with the vassal’s tears, the martyr’s gore—
Knew that a Cæsar passed a Rubicon,
Or wrongful Britain laid a Stamp-act on,
We drudged in study at another’s will,