Page:Poems - Lewis (1812).djvu/46

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POEMS.
The Mourners past, alone marked out to viewBy weeds of black; the Crowd were Mourners too:And though nor flowing scarves nor sable dressDeclared by outward signs the mind's distress,They wore [what grief of heart more surely speaks]Swoll'n eyes, dejected looks, and bloodless cheeks.It seemed, as slowly swung the passing bell,On each full heart the solemn chimings fell:Methought, on every lip a blessing hung,But pious awe restrained the obedient tongue.Each limb shook agueish; scarce a cheek was dry;And blinded by the gush of tears, each eyeSpoke in the native tongue of genuine woe,—"We come to weep the friend; not to admire the show."———
Hail, hallowed Towers[1]!—Oh! spread your portals wide;Guest more illustrious never swelled your pride!
  1. ↑ Westminster Abbey.
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