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In Memoriam A.H.H.

         
            IX.
             
      Fair ship, that from the Italian shore
          Sailest the placid ocean-plains
          With my lost Arthur’s loved remains,
      Spread thy full wings, and waft him o’er.

      So draw him home to those that mourn
          In vain; a favourable speed
          Ruffle thy mirror’d mast, and lead
      Thro’ prosperous floods his holy urn.

      All night no ruder air perplex
          Thy sliding keel, till Phosphor, bright
          As our pure love, thro’ early light
      Shall glimmer on the dewy decks.

      Sphere all your lights around, above;
          Sleep, gentle heavens, before the prow;
          Sleep, gentle winds, as he sleeps now,
      My friend, the brother of my love;

      My Arthur, whom I shall not see
          Till all my widow’d race be run;
          Dear as the mother to the son,
      More than my brothers are to me.
       


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