LXI.

But life flows on, and bears us with its tide, Nor may we, lingering, by the slumberers dwell, Though they were those once blooming at our side In youth’s gay home! Away! what sound’s deep swell Comes on the wind?--It is an empire’s knell, Slow, sad, majestic, pealing through the night! For the last time speaks forth the solemn bell Which calls the Christians to their holiest rite, With a funereal voice of solitary might.