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126 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE.
He ceased to speak; and then We knelt in fervent prayer his couch beside, Committing to that sure Eternal Guide
That dear, departing friend.
But morning dawn'd again; And still he linger'd, calm, serenely fair, As if etherealized for purer air
By long-refining pain.
The sun at noonday shone; And o'er those features jpass'd a fearful change; That hectic cheek grew dark, and sudden, strange,
Turn'd white as sculptured stone!
Fainter the quick breath grew: He murmur'd, " Pray;" the voice of prayer
arose, And when it ceased, those beaming eyes unclosed,
And looFd a sweet adieu I
Gently he pass'd away: Death left unchanged that calm and holy brow, But 0! the grave has soil'd its brightness now
With darkness and decay.
Scarce eighteen winters' snows Had fallen around that fondly cherish'd form, Ere, like a flower that bows beneath the storm,
It sunk to sweet repose.