CLASSICAL MODERN POETRY. 185 



Beneath its surface lies ? 

 Mute mute is all 

 O'er Beauty's fall ; 

 Her praise resounds no more, when mantled in her pall. 



The most beloved on earth 



Not long survive to-day ; 

 So music past is obsolete, 

 And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet, 

 And now 'tis gone away ! 

 Thus does the shade 

 In memory fade, 

 When, in forsaken tomb, the form beloved is laid. 



Then, since this world is vain, 



And volatile, and fleet, 

 Why should I lay up earthly joys, 

 Where rust corrupts and moth destroys, 

 And cares and sorrows eat ? 

 Why fly from ill, 

 With anxious skill, 



When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart 

 be still ? 



Come, Disappointment, come ! 

 Thou art not stern to me ; 

 Sad monitress ! 1 own thy sway ; 

 A votary sad in early day, 

 I bend my knee to thee: 

 From sun to sun 

 Thy race will run, 

 I only bow and say, My God, thy will be done '. 



KIRKE WHITE. 



FAREWELL TO LIFE. 



Composed by Korner, as he lay wounded and helpless in a wood, expecting 

 to die. 



My deep wound burns ; my pale lips quake in death ; 

 I feel my fainting heart resign its strife ; 

 And reaching now the limit of my life, 



Lord, to thy will I yield my parting breath ! 



