stem; She died in beauty, like a pearl dropped from some diadem; She died in beauty, like a lay along a moon-lit lake; brake; She died in beauty, like the snow on flowers, dissolved away; She died in beauty, like a star lost on the brow of day. She lives in glory, like night's gems set round the silver moon; She lives in glory, like the sun amid the blue of June. There are remedies for all things but death. Carlyle. How fast has brother followed brother From sunshine to the sunless land! 25 I see a hand you cannot see, Which beckons me away; I hear a voice you cannot hear, 289 There's many an empty cradle, In that dread moment, how the frantic soul Brutes die but once Blest incommunicable privilege, for which Blair. Proud man, who rules the globe and reads the stars, Philosopher or hero, sighs in vain. He fears not dying-'tis a deeper fear. The thunder-peal cries to his conscience, "Hear!'' Mrs. Hale. Death is the crown of life. Young. He dies and makes no sign. Shakspeare. One may live as a conqueror, a king or magistrate, but he must die as a man. The bed of death brings every man to his pure individuality, to the intense contemplation of that deepest and most solemn of all relations, the relation between the creature and his Creator. Here it is that fame and renown must fail to assist us; that all external things must fail to aid us; that friends, affection and human love and devotedness cannot suc But how the wretched love to think of thee, Southey. The hand that unnerved Belshazzar derived its most horrifying influence from the want of a body, and death itself is not formidable in what we do know of it, but in what we do not. Colton. The bough had broken under the burden of the unripe fruit. Longfellow. |