But when th' Avenger in his withering track
Strikes in its bloom the pride of Manhood down,
The heart's sad strings, but faintly echo back
The plaintive murmurings of Sorrow's moan.
'Unhappy youth!' ere life was well begun,
And thy brief day had seen scarce half a sun,
The roses from thy fading cheek have flown,
And Death, the spoiler, marked thee for his own!
[GLEANINGS FROM THE GERMAN.]
BY WILLIAM PITT PALMER.
COUNSEL.
Soul of light in stone enthroned
Is the precious diamond;
Son of light, do thou endure,
Like this gem, still strong and pure!
EPITAPH.
Read, wanderer, a husband's moan:
My wife was young and fair!
Now lies upon her heart a stone,
And mine—is light as air!
ON THE EPITAPHS IN A CHURCH-YARD.