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SO ENDS CHIDE HAROLD HIS LAST PILGRIMAGE! Upon the shores of Greece he stood, and cried 'LIBERTY! and those shores, from age to age Renown'd, and Sparta's woods and rocks, replied 'Liberty! But a Spectre, at his side, Stood mocking; and its dart, uplifting high, Smote him: he sank to earth in life's fair pride: SPARTA! thy rocks then heard another cry, And old Ilissus sigh'd 'Die, generous exile, die!
O, tell us, tell us, where to go! "Dear mother died a week ago, And Robbie cries for her all day. We want to go where mother is, Is Heaven so very far away?" O, plaint of little sorrowing hearts! Earth's universal cry is this, That you' ve so learned to ask: Who knows, who knows, where Heaven is? Poor little seekers after Heaven! Poor little waifs on life's bleak shore!
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