When last I saw, no mounds lay heaving there, No sexton rude had turned the resting sod. Alas, how changed! The holy and the fair Have sunk in death, and triumphed in their God. Then let me pause, if here my Maker stays, And guards his saints from the inhuman foe. His word is true; my trembling heart obeys; Bless'd are the dead who to the Saviour go. Now new refulgence breathes o'er all the scene; Yon lark's sweet warble now is sweeter still; Yon blady grass stands out in purer green; And softer music tinkles from the rill. For why? O mark! The cause is written here; The pale-faced marble tells the softened tale, That sweeteneth the sigh, arrests the starting tear, And lulls to silence the untimely wail. ASTLEY H. BALDWIN. * * * * * Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH. * * * * * _All Rights Reserved._ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art,, by Various