Seventy-six has seven stanzas of a common, but musical
versification, of which these lines will afford an excellent specimen.
That death-stain on the vernal sword,
Hallowed to freedom all the shore-
In fragments fell the yoke abhorred-
The footsteps of a foreign lord
Profaned the soil no more.
The Living Lost has four stanzas of somewhat peculiar
construction, but admirably adapted to the tone of contemplative
melancholy which pervades the poem. We can call to mind few things
more singularly impressive than the eight concluding verses. They
combine ease with severity, and have antithetical force without effort
or flippancy. The final thought has also a high ideal beauty.
But ye who for the living lost
That agony in secret bear
Who shall with soothing words accost
The strength of your despair?
Grief for your sake is scorn for them
Whom ye lament, and all condemn,
And o'er the world of spirit lies
A gloom from which ye turn your eyes.
The first stanza commences with one of those affectations which we
noticed in the poem "Earth."
Matron, the children of whose love,
Each to his grave in youth have passed,
And now the mould is heaped above
The dearest and the last.
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