ABSTRACT
Oh deem we not the Crypt resign’d to gloom, Since death's pale trophies mingle on the ground; True, ‘tis the path that leads to many a tomb; Yet even here taste strews her wreaths around, And not one object speaks of man's dark doom, But shews his intellectual power profound, And from his very dust and ashes cries, “Oh heavenly gifted thing, that shall again arise!”
