In Memoriam. - Governor Joseph Trumbull,

Died at Hartford, August 4th, 1861; and his wife, Mrs. ELIZA STORRS TRUMBULL, the night after his funeral.

Death's shafts fly thick, and love a noble mark.

--And one hath fallen who bore upon his shield

The name and lineage of an honor'd race

Who gave us rulers in those ancient days

Where truth stood first and gain was left behind.

--His was the type of character that makes

Republics strong,--unstain'd fidelity,--

A dignity of mind that mark'd unmov'd

The unsought honors clustering round his path,

And chang'd them into duties. With firm step

On the high places of the earth he walk'd,

Serving his Country, not to share her spoils,

Nor pamper with exciting eloquence

A parasite ambition.

With clear eye

And cautious speech, and judgment never warp'd

By fancy or enthusiasm, he pursued

An even, upright course. His bounties sought

Unostentatious channels, and he loved

To help the young who strove to help themselves,

Aiding their oar against opposing tides,

Into the smooth, broad waters.

Thus flow'd on

His almost fourscore years,--levying slight tax

On form or mind, while self-forgetful still,

He rose to prop the sad, or gird the weak.

--Yet, when at last, in deep repose he lay,

His classic features, and unfurrow'd brow,

Wearing the symmetry of earlier days

Which Death, as if relenting, render'd back

In transitory gleam, 'twas sweet to hear

His aged Pastor at the coffin-side

Bearing full tribute to his piety

So many lustrums, that consistent faith

Which nerv'd his journey and had led him home.

Home?--Yes! Give thanks, ye, who still travel on,

Oft startled, as some pilgrim from your side

Falls through the arches of Time's broken bridge

Without a warning, and is seen no more--

Give thanks that he is safe,--at home,--in heaven.

*    *    *    *    *

Back to the grave, from whence ye scarce have turn'd,

Break up the clods on which the dews of night

But twice had rested. Lo! another comes.

She, who for many years had garner'd up

Her heart's chief strength in him, finding his love

Armor and solace, in all weal or woe,

Seem'd the world poor without him, that she made

Such haste to join him in the spirit-land?

Through the dark valley of the shade of death,

Treading so close behind him? Scarce his lip

Learn'd the new song of heaven, before she rose

To join the enraptur'd strain. Her earthly term

Of fair and faithful duty well perform'd,

In fear of God, and true good will to man,

How blessed thus to enter perfect rest,

Where is no shadow of infirmity,

Nor fear of change, but happy souls unite

In high ascriptions to redeeming Love.

*    *    *    *    *

And thou,[1] sole daughter of their house and heart,

Leading thy mournful little ones to look

Into the open and insatiate tomb,

With what a rushing tide thy sorrows came.

--The sudden smiting, in his glorious prime

Of him who held the key of all thy joys,--

The fair child following him,--the noble Friend

Who watch'd thee with parental pride,--and now

Father and Mother have forsaken thee.

--The lessons of a life-long pilgrimage

Thou hast achiev'd, while yet a few brief moons

With waning finger, as in mockery wrote

Of treasur'd hopes, more fleeting than their own.

--But mays't thou from these sterner teachings gain

A higher seat, where no o'ershadowing cloud

Veileth the purpose of God's discipline.

And mid their glad embrace,--the gone before,--

The re-united ne'er to part,--behold

The teaching of no bitter precept lost,

Nor tear-sown seed fail of its harvest crown.