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POETRY FOR RECITATION.
The Officer's Funeral.
HARK, hark, 'mid the busy stir of life,
But their alter'd tones chime sad and slow
And looks of manliest grief are there,
And see ! as that bier draws nigh, it brings
For the voice that gave the stern command
And the breast so true and the brow so proud
He would have hailed the dart that sped
They have borne him to the sacred porch,
They have breath'd the funeral prayer and hymn,
They have lower'd the coffin dark and deep,
Earth and Weaven.
[Suggested by the Death of a young Female.]
THERE is grief! there is grief! there is clasping of
hands, And weeping and calling for aid ; For Sorrow hath summon’d her group and it stands Round the couch where the suff'rer is laid. And cheeks are all pallid, and hearts are all cold, And tears from the heart-springs are shed ; And who that looks on the sweet saint to behold, But would gladly lie down in her stead ! There is grief! there is grief! there is anguish and
strife, And the suff'rer is striving for breath; For the spirit will cling, oh! how fondly to life, And stern is the struggle with death ! And the terrible conflict grows deadlier still, Till the last fatal symptoms have birth ; And the eyeball is glazed and the heart's blood is chill, And this is the portion of Earth!
There is bliss ! there is bliss ! in the regions above,
There is bliss ! there is bliss ! at the foot of the throne,
Queen Elizabeth and the Countess of
Nottingham. The following anecdote of Queen Elizabeth and the Countess of Not. tingham, which is related by Hume and contradicted by other authorities may possibly be allowed to form the subject of a ballad.
A lady lies upon her bed, the lonely bed of death, Aer aged life is parting fast and fleeting is her breath ; Bat yet she cannot life resign, nor hope for peace
or rest Until she hath the secret told that weighs upon her
And fearful are her thoughts by day, and wild her
midnight dreams, She utters moanings loud and deep, and wild terrific
screams ; She weeps, she tears her hair, she sheds of briny tears
a flood, And shaking wild her withered hand, she cries
" 'tis stained with blood.” “And haste," she shriek’d, “in pity haste, and seek
our Lady Queen, “I may not rest till I, once more, that injured one
have seen ;
"And say I beg for grace from her, and hope to be
forgiven, “ As she herself would mercy ask and pray
peace from Heaven !” They sought the Queen, she quickly flew besides
that dying bed, And whisper'd mild the sufferer lone, and cheer'd
her drooping head ; But strong convulsions seized her straight, and shook
her aged frame, While mid the pauses of her grief she breath'd Lord Essex' name.