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PART VII.

POEMS OF TRAGEDY AND SORROW.

THE mournful funeral slow proceeds behind,
Arrayed in black, the heavy head declined;

Wide yawns the grave; dull tolls the solemn bell;
Dark lie the dead; and long the last farewell,

There music sounds, and dancers shake the hall;
But here the silent tears incessant fall.

Ere Mirth can well her comedy begin,
The tragic demon oft comes thundering in,
Confounds the actors, damps the merry show,
And turns the loudest laugh to deepest woe.

JOHN WILSON.

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