Margaret, who was there at school. The poetry was impressively recited
and listened to by many people with wet eyes. This gifted child of
nature died June 25, 1833.


The morning breaks; see how the glorious sun,
Slow wheeling from the east, new lustre sheds
O'er the soft clime of Italy. The flower
That kept its perfume in the dewy night,
Now breathes it forth again. Hill, vale and grove,
Clad in rich verdure, bloom, and from the rocks
The joyous waters leap. O! meet it is
That thou, imperial Rome, should lift thy head,
Decked with the triple crown, where cloudless skies
And lands rejoicing in the summer sun,
Rich blessings yield.

But there is grief to-day.
A voice is heard within thy marble walls,
A voice lamenting for the youthful dead;
For o'er the relics of her forest boy
The mother of dead Empires weeps. And lo!
Clad in white robes the long procession moves;
Youths throng around the bier, and high in front,
Star of our hope, the glorious cross is reared,
Triumphant sign. The low, sweet voice of prayer,
Flowing spontaneous from the spirit's depths,
Pours its rich tones; and now the requiem swells,
Now dies upon the ear.