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352 FOREST MELODIES.
SICOUD WIFE OF THE BCBMA1T MISSIONAET, WHO DIED WHILE OS HEE JASSAGE HOMEWABD, AND WAS BCBIED AT ST. HELENA.
On that lonely isle they laid her to rest, When life's latest struggle was o'er;
When her spirit had reach'd its home with the blest, Instead of her own native shore.
They laid her to rest in that barren ground,
On those sullen rocks of gloom, Where a fallen monarch from Europe found
A lonely exile's tomb.
Think you her deeds will be sounded as far As that conqueror's blood-stain'd nameó
As the thrilling tales of his contests are, By the trumpet of earthly fame ?
And think you a fleet from her native land, Commission'd to bring back her dust,
Will honour her grave with such pompous parade, While receiving the sacred trust ?
Ah, no ! she will sleep unheeded, forgot, Where the wind of the ocean blows,
'Mid the dismal rocks of that gloomy spot, Where Napoleon could not repose.