WHERE is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn? Where may the grave of that good man be? -- By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn, Under the twigs of a young birch-tree! The oak that in summer was sweet to hear, And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year, And whistled and roared in the winter alone, Is gone, -- and the birch in its stead is grown. -- The knight's bones are dust, And his good sword rust; -- His soul is with the saints, I trust. |