On The Death Of Dr Burgess, The Late Bishop Of Salisbury.

Sainted old man, for more than eighty years, Thee—tranquilly and stilly-creeping—age, Led to the confines of the sepulchre, And thy last day on earth—but "Father—Lord— Which art in heaven"—how pure a faith, and heart Unmoved, amid the changes of this life, And tumult of the world,—and oh! what hope,— What love and constancy of the calm mind, And tears to misery from the inmost heart Flowing—at times, a brief sweet smile and voice How bland, and studies, various and profound, Of learned languages—but, ever first, That learning which the oracles of God Unfolds, even to the close of life's long day Thy course accompanies! But, thou, farewell, And live—this mortal veil removed—in bliss; Live with the saints in light, whom Christ had loved. But pardon us, left in this vale of tears, For one last tear upon thy cold remains— Pardon, beloved and venerated shade!