On Robert Emmet's Grave
...
No trump tells thy virtues--the grave where they restWith thy dust shall remain unpolluted by fame,Till thy foes, by the world and by fortune caressed,Shall pass like a mist from the light of thy name.
When the storm-cloud that lowers o'er the day-beam is gone,Unchanged, unextinguished its life-spring will shine;When Erin has ceased with their memory to groan,She will smile through the tears of revival on thine.
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