Pericles

He is the pride of Athens! he has fought First in her battles; he has rear'd her fanes, Restored her laws, struck off her galling chains, And won the glory his ambition sought.— Yet say not he is happy. See him stand By yonder lifeless form, and, on his cheek, Mark the big tear in silent language speak, As the gay flowers drop sadly from his hand: They fall upon his last, his youngest child,— Him on whose sunny face he loved to gaze, Watching how merrily his youthful days Were dancing on, whilst all around him smiled. But he has died. Look on the warrior's brow,— In the fond father's heart there is no Athens now!