COLLINS
How sleep the brave who sink to restBy all their country’s wishes blest!When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,Returns to deck their hallow’d mould,She there shall dress a sweeter sodThan Fancy’s feet have ever trod.By fairy hands their knell is rung,By forms unseen their dirge is sung;There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,To bless the turf that wraps their clay;And Freedom shall a while repairTo dwell a weeping hermit there.William Collins.
How sleep the brave who sink to restBy all their country’s wishes blest!When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,Returns to deck their hallow’d mould,She there shall dress a sweeter sodThan Fancy’s feet have ever trod.By fairy hands their knell is rung,By forms unseen their dirge is sung;There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,To bless the turf that wraps their clay;And Freedom shall a while repairTo dwell a weeping hermit there.William Collins.
How sleep the brave who sink to restBy all their country’s wishes blest!When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,Returns to deck their hallow’d mould,She there shall dress a sweeter sodThan Fancy’s feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung,By forms unseen their dirge is sung;There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,To bless the turf that wraps their clay;And Freedom shall a while repairTo dwell a weeping hermit there.
William Collins.