McLellan's Tomb

by Hannah Flagg Gould

Say, may a stranger's trembling hand presume
To twine its humble wreath upon the tomb
Where young McLELLAN's sleeping clay was borne,
And not be deemed profane by those who mourn?

May thus, the eye, that ne'er beheld his face,
Seek out and fall upon his resting place,
Where nature hangs her fragrant evergreen
To deck Mount Auburn's calm and holy scene?

Then by his tomb a stranger, yet a friend,
To read his name and age I pensive bend,
And o'er the part that is resigned to earth
Pay my soul's tribute to departed worth!

Shall Science mourn the deed that death has done,
And here lament her lost, beloved son,
When he had gained the knowledge pure and high
To fit him long to live, or soon to die?

Shall truth bewail her champion, when the Lord
Gave his young soldier buckler, helm and sword;
But took him, ere he reached the field of strife,
To bear the palm, and wear the crown of life?

Will Earth lament that he, whose feet have prest
Her many lands, is here so soon at rest;
When through her distant windings called to roam,
He still looked up and sought the spirit's home?

Parental fondness and fraternal love,
Weep they, that he is gone to taste alone
The full fruition of his hopes of bliss,
Which from that world he drew to brighten this?

Yes! they may weep, and friendship drop her tears
For one so ripe in worth, so young in years!
For 'Jesus wept!' and those, who would pursue
The path he trod on earth, must sorrow too.

But, though their eyes with nature's mists are dim,
They soon shall brighten; for they follow Him,
Who to a glorious life the dead shall raise,
And on the lips now silent, perfect praise!

Then fare thee well, thou quiet, sacred spot!
Farther 'the stranger intermeddleth not'
With peace like thine! Hence hope and faith shall rise
Where kindred spirits meet beyond the skies.