VI.
No trump tells thy virtues—the grave where they rest
With 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.
VII.
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.
More verses by Percy Bysshe Shelley
- Fragment: The Vine-Shroud
- To The Moonbeam
- The Birth Place Of Pleasure
- Fragment: Wedded Souls
- The Aziola