3. LAST WISH OF WM. H. PRESCOTT. [(notes)]
Still beautiful in this thy rest so deep,
Thy final wish fulfill'd, we see thy face
Calm as in life, with not a marring trace
Of the swift blow, which calls thy friends to weep.
What hosts of mighty dead around thee keep
On these rich-loaded shelves their silent place?—
"Farewell, companions lov'd; like your's my race
Is run; tomorrow in the ground I sleep."—
What would he teach us, living, by this scene?—