James Beattie

Changed to a lapwing by th' avenging god,
He made the barren waste his lone abode,
And read more

Changed to a lapwing by th' avenging god,
He made the barren waste his lone abode,
And oft on soaring pinions hover'd o'er
The lofty palace then his own no more.

Let those deplore their doom,
Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn:
But lofty souls, who read more

Let those deplore their doom,
Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn:
But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb,
Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn.

On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,
And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.

On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,
And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.

No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,
Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;
Each season read more

No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,
Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;
Each season looked delightful as it past,
To the fond husband and the faithful wife.

And none speaks false, when there in none to hear.

And none speaks false, when there in none to hear.