Thou marble husband! might there be
More of flesh and blood like thee!
Or if, in Music's festive hall,
I come to cheat me of my care,
Amid the swell, the dying fall,
His genius greets me there.
O man of bronze! thy solemn air--
Best soother of a troubled brain--
Floods me with memories, and again
As thou stand'st visibly to men,
Beloved musician! so once more
Crawford comes back that did thy form restore.
* * * * *
Well,--_requiescat_! let him pass!
Good mourners, go your several ways!
He needs no further rite, nor mass,
Nor eulogy, who best could praise
Himself in marble and in brass;
Yet his best monument did raise,
Not in those perishable things
That men eternal deem,--
The pride of palaces and kings,--
But in such works as must avail him there,
With Him who, from the extreme
Love that was in his breast,
Said, "Come, all ye that heavy burdens bear,
And I will give you rest!"
THE PRESIDENT'S MESSAGE.
As a mere literary production, the Message of Mr. Buchanan is so
superior to any of the Messages of his immediate predecessor, that
the reader naturally expects to find in it a corresponding
superiority of sentiment and aim. When we meet a man who is
well-dressed, and whose external demeanor is that of a gentleman, we
are prone to infer that he is also a man of upright principles and
honorable feelings.
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