0. P.   CRANCH.                                     457
0, many a heart was stricken dumb with grief!
We who had known thee here, — had met thee there
Where Rome threw golden light on every leaf
Life's volume turned in that enchanted air, —
O friend ! how we recall the Italian days
Amid the Caesar's ruined palace halls, —
The Coliseum, and the frescoed blaze
Of proud St Peter's dome, — the Sistine walls, —»
The lone Campagna and the viUage green, —
The Vatican, — the music and dim light
Of gorgeous temples, — statues, pictures, seen
With thee : those sunny days return so bright,
Now thou art gone !    Thou hast a fairer world
Than that bright clime.   The dreams that filled thee here
Now find divine completion, and, unfurled
Thy spirit-wings, find out their own high sphere.
Farewell ! thought-gifted, noble-hearted one !
We, who have known thee, know thou art not lost ;
The star that set in storms still shines upon
The o'ershadowing cloud, and, when we sorrow most,
In the blue spaces of God's firmament
Beams out with purer light than we have known,
r Above tbe tempest and the wild lament
Of those who weep the radiance that is flown.
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