Friends of my heart, who share my sighs!
Go seek the turf where Mano lies,
And woo the dewy clouds of spring,
To sweep it with prolific wing.
Within that cell, beneath that heap,
Friendship and Truth and Honor sleep,
Beneficence, that used to clasp
The world within her ample grasp.
There rests entomb'd--of thought bereft--
For were one conscious atom left
New bliss, new kindness to display,
'Twould burst the grave, and seek the day.
But tho' in dust thy relics lie,
Thy virtues, Mano, ne'er shall die;
Tho' Nile's full stream be seen no more,
That spread his waves from shore to shore,
Still in the verdure of the plain
His vivifying smiles remain.
_Hassan Alasady_.