All the fairest things of earth, Art's creations have their birth — Still from love and death. - Letitia Elizabeth Landon

For human tears are lava-drops,
That scorch and wither as they flow;
Then let them flow for those who live,
And not for those who sleep below.

Ahmed comes back a conqueror, but what hath he found?
The cry of the orphan is loud on his ear,
And his eye hath beheld the young bride's bitter tear,
And the friend of his youth is left dead on the plain,
And the flower of his nobles return not again.
There are crowds that are filling the air with his name;
Do ye marvel the monarch is loathing his fame?

Each look'd upon his comrade's face,
Pale as funereal stone ;
Yet none could touch the other's hand,
For none could feel his own.
Like statues fixed, that gallant band
Stood on the dread deck to die ;
The sleet was their shroud, the wind their dirge,
And their churchyard the sea and sky.