Last Lines of Thomas Campbell
A paradise below.And be free! -- and be free!And the storm has ceased to blow.And try to be Platonic.Assuage its wrath, and guide you on the deep!Beauty, look not so killingly sweetly.Each bird is hush'd that stretch'd its pinions to the dayFor having perish'd in the front of war.His watery course -- a world-encircling line.Impassive on thy beauty.In slumbers steep the heart of pain!Of glassy runnels bubbling over rocks.Proportion'd to their sweetness.Read by the music of her tongue.Shall sing thy glory, BEATIFIC SEA.That lick the tyrant's feet, and smile upon his crimes!That likes all times and seasons.The devil himself astounded.To call me King and Lord.To lift their silken lashes.Untainted by chance, unabated by time.Waved in high auburn o'er her polish'd brow!Wept when all their tears were dried.