95
THE
FUNERAL DAY OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.
Many an eye
May wail the dimming of our shining star.
Shakspeare.
A glorious voice hath ceased!—
Mournfully, reverently—the funeral chant
Breathe reverently!—There is a dreamy sound,
A hollow murmur of the dying year,
In the deep woods:—Let it be wild and sad!
A more Æolian melancholy tone
Than ever wail'd o'er bright things perishing!
For that is passing from the darken'd land,
