THE DEATH OF TASSO. THE Poet was invited to Rome by the POPE and Cardinal CYNTHIO, to be publicly crowned with Laurel in the Capitol; an honour for which he was not solicitous, and which some presage assured him he would not receive. He arrived in the City; but some unforeseen circumstances delayed the ceremony, until he was seized with an illness which terminated his axist¬ ence on the 25th April, 1595.] "Thou of the Lyre and Sword!"-Mrs. HEMANS. OH seven-hilled City! tho' the prostrate world And veils thy beauty with her gloomy pall; Of the enraptured populace proclaim For him that melancholy man-a crown Have sighed to wear: for him is this rejoicing,- The gladness in the air-the smiles around him flung, And now the voice of sorrow ye can hear DIRGE. IN manhood's ripe bloom, To the silent tomb, Thy body we now consign; Each harrowing grief There shall find relief, Thy spirit no more shall pino There anguish and pain And hushed is life's stormy roar.. Repose thee in peace, Where sorrow shall cease, And wailings are heard no more. The wreath that we twined, Thou hast now resigned, For a purer crown above; Where the stream of life Is unmixed with strife, Where reigns everlasting love. High Princes no more Shall make thee deplore That thine was a soul of light; Thy fame like a star Shall shine from afar, Above the dark clouds of night. Resigned was thy soul For its final goal Thy spirit was mild and meek; On thy placid brow, No sorrow rests now, Nor woe on thy care-worn cheek., Be it ours to weep For ever hath snapped the string Of that lyre, whose strain Could cheer human pain, And gladness around it fling. Now Poet répése! From all earthly woes Thy spirit hath passed away; Be thine the calm rest Of souls ever blest, In realms of eternal day! REQUIEM. "Woe unto us-not her for she sleeps well." BYRON. OH! wherefore for the beautiful, Should we shed the tear of sorrow Was her path a path of flowers, Her life a fairy scene, Where misery did not enter, And care had never been? Rest! maiden rest f The grief her soul hath vanished from, It was not of a day; Then mourn not that her spirit From such should pass away. Rest! maiden rest! |