High poised—or as the wren that sings
In shady places, to proclaim
Her modest gratitude.
Not vain is sadly-uttered praise;
The words of truth's memorial vow
Are sweet as morning fragrance shed
From flowers 'mid Goldau's ruins bred;
As evening's fondly-lingering rays,[563]
On Righi's silent brow.
Lamented youth! to thy cold clay