Constitutional Whig

[From the Norfolk Beacon.]

LINES

To Midshipmen Rodgers, Shield, and Harris.

"lli occidant multis flebilia,
—nulli flebilior quam mihi."

The longer they sleep beneath the green wave,
The cold for hearts so true,
They are borne from their last watery grave,
And the earth enshrines them now.

O! who can tell the fond mother's woe,
When the loss of her much loved boy,
Breaks on her ear with a death-like throe,
And withers her promise of joy.

The Father has clasp'd the son to his breast,
And down the brave vet'ran's cheek,
The tears flow fast from a soul opprest,
And his bitter agony speak.

The form that ne'er quail'd to the foe nor the storm,
Is bent like the frailest reed,
The heart that was light, when the battle grew warm,
Feels no pride in the warrior's meed.

He's bow'd to the earth, and his glory's forgot,
He heeds not the meteor of fame,
His eyes in deep sadness are fix'd on the spot,
That darkens the hopes of his name.

They fell not in battle—but nobly they died,
Their friendship was true to the last,
They perished in youth, fondly sunk side by side,
And their requiem was sigh'd by the blast.

C.