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Cornish ballads & other poems . •^ ^ ^ M. EPITAPH. 293 So let the stranger understand, And the tale be proudly told,That the mighty heart of my own dear land Beats with the zeal of old ! Morwenstow, Nov. $th, 1842. [Printed in The Western Luminary, November 8th, 1842 ; andin Reeds Shaken with the Windt 1843.] EPITAPH ON C. WORDSWORTHS WIFE. I! nimium dilecta—vocat Deus—i bona nostrsePars animae, mcerens altera, disce sequi. GO ! lost too early and belovd too well.Go! since God calls thee—bitter tho it be—My spirit, which remains, with tears to dwell,Soul of my soul! must learn to follow thee.

Cornish ballads & other poems . •^ ^ ^ M. EPITAPH. 293 So let the stranger understand, And the tale be proudly told,That the mighty heart of my own dear land Beats with the zeal of old ! Morwenstow, Nov. $th, 1842. [Printed in The Western Luminary, November 8th, 1842 ; andin Reeds Shaken with the Windt 1843.] EPITAPH ON C. WORDSWORTHS WIFE. I! nimium dilecta—vocat Deus—i bona nostrsePars animae, mcerens altera, disce sequi. GO ! lost too early and belovd too well.Go! since God calls thee—bitter tho it be—My spirit, which remains, with tears to dwell,Soul of my soul! must learn to follow thee. Stock Photo
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Cornish ballads & other poems . •^ ^ ^ M. EPITAPH. 293 So let the stranger understand, And the tale be proudly told, That the mighty heart of my own dear land Beats with the zeal of old ! Morwenstow, Nov. $th, 1842. [Printed in The Western Luminary, November 8th, 1842 ; andin Reeds Shaken with the Windt 1843.] EPITAPH ON C. WORDSWORTHS WIFE. I! nimium dilecta—vocat Deus—i bona nostrsePars animae, mcerens altera, disce sequi. GO ! lost too early and belovd too well.Go! since God calls thee—bitter tho it be—My spirit, which remains, with tears to dwell, Soul of my soul! must learn to follow thee. R. S. H. 1 The above Latin epitaph was written by Charles Wordsworth, Bishop of St. Andrews, and nephew of the poet, to the memory ofhis wife. This information was kindly supplied by Dr. RichardGarnett.—Ed. THE NIZZARD CHIEF.1 GIRD on thy gory vest! that ruddy stainWear thou in memory of thy Father Cain!Not all the waters of the Italian FloodCan wash from that fell garment Abels blood!1 Garibaldi. 294 SYRIAN RUINS—A FRAGMENT.