VIII.

A death-bell ceased;--beneath the vault were laid A great man's bones;--and when the rest were gone, Veil'd, and in sable widow-'d weeds array'd, An aged woman knelt upon the stone. Low as she pray'd, the wailing notes were sweet With the strange music of a foreign tongue: Thrice to that spot came feeble, feebler feet, Thrice on that stone were humble garlands hung. On the fourth day some formal hand in scorn The flowers that breathed of priestcraft cast away; But the poor stranger came not with the morn, And flowers forbidden deck'd no more the clay. A heart was broken!--and a spirit fled! Whither--let those who love and hope decide-- But in the faith that Love rejoins the dead, The heart was broken ere the garland died.

[F] Burnett.

EVA.

A TRUE STORY.