Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391604" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Funeral Day of Sir Walter Scott</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A GLORIOUS voice hath ceased!- <br>Mournfully, reverently-the funeral chant <br>Breathe reverently! There is a dreamy sound, <br>A hollow murmur of the dying year,<br>In the deep woods. Let it be wild and sad! <br>A more Aeolian melancholy tone<br>Than ever wail'd o'er bright things perishing!<br>For that is passing from the darken'd land,<br>Which the green summer will not bring us back-<br>Though all her songs return. The funeral chant<br>Breathe reverently!-They bear the mighty forth,<br>The kingly ruler in the realms of mind-<br>They bear him through the household paths, the groves, <br>Where every tree had music of its own <br>To his quick ear of knowledge taught by love-<br>And he is silent!-Past the living stream<br>They bear him now; the stream, whose kindly voice<br>On alien shores his true heart burn'd to hear-<br>And he is silent! O'er the heathery hills, <br>Which his own soul had mantled with a light <br>Richer than autumn's purple, now they move-<br>And he is silent!-he, whose flexile lips<br>Were but unseal'd, and lo! a thousand forms, <br>From every pastoral glen and fern-clad height, <br>In glowing life upsprang:-Vassal and chief,<br>Rider and steed, with shout and bugle-peal,<br>Fast rushing through the brightly troubled air,<br>Like the wild huntsman's band. And still they live,<br>To those fair scenes imperishably bound, <br>And, from the mountain mist still flashing by,<br>Startle the wanderer who hath listen'd there <br>To the seer's voice: phantoms of colour'd thought,<br>Surviving him who raised.-O eloquence!<br>O power, whose breathings thus could wake the dead! <br>Who shall wake thee? lord of the buried past! <br>And art thou there-to those dim nations join'd,<br>Thy subject-host so long?-The wand is dropp'd<br>The bright lamp broken, which the gifted hand<br>Touch'd, and the genii came!-Sing reverently<br>The funeral chant!-The mighty is borne home-<br>And who shall be his mourners?-Youth and age,<br>For each hath felt his magic-love and grief,<br>For he hath communed with the heart of each:<br>Yes-the free spirit of humanity<br>May join the august procession, for to him<br>Its mysteries have been tributary things, <br>And all its accents known:-from field or wave,<br>Never was conqueror on his battle bier,<br>By the vail'd banner and the muffled drum,<br>And the proud drooping of the crested head, <br>More nobly follow'd home.-The last abode,<br>The voiceless dwelling of the bard is reach'd: <br>A still majestic spot: girt solemnly<br>With all the imploring beauty of decay;<br>A stately couch 'midst ruins! meet for him<br>With his bright fame to rest in, as a king<br>Of other days, laid lonely with his sword<br>Beneath his head. Sing reverently the chant<br>Over the honour'd grave!-the grave!-oh, say <br>Rather the shrine!-An alter for the love,<br>The light, soft pilgrim steps, the votive wreaths<br>Of years unborn-a place where leaf and flower,<br>By that which dies not of the sovereign dead, <br>Shall be made holy things-where every weed<br>Shall have its portion of the inspiring gift<br>From buried glory breathed. And now, what strain, <br>Making victorious melody ascend<br>High above sorrow's dirge, befits the tomb<br>Where he that sway'd the nations thus is laid-<br>The crown'd of men?<br>  A lowly, lowly, song. <br>Lowly and solemn be <br>Thy children's cry to Thee, <br> Father divine! <br>A hymn of suppliant breath, <br>Owning that life and death <br> Alike are Thine!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A spirit on its way, <br>Sceptred the earth to sway, <br> From Thee was sent: <br>Now call'st Thou back Thine own- <br>Hence is that radiance flown- <br> To earth but lent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Watching in breathless awe, <br>The bright head bow'd we saw, <br> Beneath Thy hand! <br>Fill'd by one hope, one fear, <br>Now o'er a brother's bier, <br> Weeping we stand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How hath he pass'd!-the lord<br>Of each deep bosom chord, <br> To meet Thy sight, <br>Unmantled and alone, <br>On Thy bless'd mercy thrown, <br> O Infinite!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So, from his harvest home, <br>Must the tired peasant come; <br> So, in one trust, <br>Leader and king must yield <br>The naked soul, reveal'd <br> To Thee, All Just!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sword of many of a fight-<br>What then shall be its might? <br> The lofty lay, <br>That rush'd on eagle wing-<br>What shall its memory bring?<br> What hope, what stay?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Father! in that hour,<br>When earth all succouring power<br> Shall disavow;<br>When spear, and shield, and crown,<br>In faintness are cast down-<br> Sustain us, Thou!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By Him who bow'd to take<br>The death-cup for our sake,<br> The thorn, the rod;<br>From whom the last dismay<br>Was not to pass away-<br> Aid us, O God!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tremblers beside the grave,<br>We call on thee to save.<br> Father divine!<br>Hear, hear our suppliant breath,<br>Keep us, in life and death,<br> Thine, only Thine!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391604" data-title="The Funeral Day of Sir Walter Scott de Felicia Dorothea Hemans" data-description="A GLORIOUS voice hath ceased!- 
Mournfully, reverently-the funeral chant 
Breathe reverently! There is a dreamy sound, 
A hollow murmur of the dying year,
In the deep woods. Let it be wild and sad! 
A more Aeolian melancholy tone
Than ever wail'd ..."></div>
</div>
</div>