I'll bid my heart be still

I'll bid my heart be still,

And check each struggling sigh!

And there's none e'er shall know

My soul's cherish'd woe,

When the first tears of sorrow are dry.

They bid me cease to weep,

For glory gilds his name;

Ah! 'tis therefore I mourn --

He ne'er can return

To enjoy the bright noon of his fame.

While minstrels wake the lay

For peace and freedom won,

Like my lost lover's knell

The tones seem to swell,

And I hear but his death-dirge alone.

My cheek has lost its hue,

My eye grows faint and dim,

But 'tis sweeter to fade

In grief's gloomy shade,

Than to bloom for another than him.