Oh! when shall this frail tenement of clay
Be emptied by Death's peremptory call,
And its celestial guest be fetched away,
From mortal tenure and corporeal thrall,
A beam, to mingle with the flood of day,
A part to join unto the glorious All?--
When shall the kingly intellect have fled
From this his dull material servitude,
And Thought exalt her long--abasèd head,
With pomp of heavenly majesty endued?
And when shall the affection, here below
Broken by parting in its stream of light,
Dash off the earthly vestiture of woe,
And shine, with everlasting radiance bright?