268 TOMB OF JOSEPHINE.

Still o er the joys of earlier years,

With tender spirit hung, And mourned, when sorrow o er his path

A blighting shadow flung ;

Gave thanks, if victory s meteor-wreath His care-worn temples bound,

And in the blessings of the poor, Her only solace found.

And so she died, and here she sleeps,

This village-fane below ; Sweet is the memory of a life That caused no tear to flow.

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