Nor shall thy tribes from memory vanish quite,
While beauteous deeds as angels ofttimes do,
Still sway the generous mind with heavenly might,
For thine would snatch even worse from Time's oblivious night.

The tallest fir, that decks the blooming grove,
Decays the first, the most abounding rose,
By worms is first consumed; the pearl we love
Is stolen first, the star that brightest glows
To gild the gloom, is first that sets, and those
Whose lovely lives on earth we prized the most,
And most assuaged the pangs of thronging woes,
Which--oh how oft! our fated paths have cross'd,
By all are ever mourned, "the loved and early lost."

So Rolfe's dear spouse was early snatched away,--
But left one pledge of her undying love--
(Perchance her happy spirit oft would stray
Round their dear footsteps wheresoe'er they rove)
And Europe's turf grow green her heart above.
No more could grief or joy disturb her breast.
Soft by her tomb let musing Fancy move!
Let not a sound of thoughtlessness molest
The melancholy spot of her eternal rest!

Her fair form sank low in the gloomy earth--
Her spirit soared and found a brighter home,
Where now with sun-bright smiles, she wanders forth,
Beneath the glories of a heavenly dome;
Where Seraphs o'er bright fields forever roam,