The Sepulchral Recesses: Wilson

Mona, may Ocean's waves that gird thee round
Keep watch about thy shores, as holy ground,
And lift their suppliant hands, nor plead in vain,
And thine Apostle's See e'en yet remain !
For, louder than those waves thy rocks among,
That saintly name once had a thrilling tongue,
Which pleaded for thy sea-encircled strand ;
And still doth plead. Woe worth the reckless hand
That shall remove thy landmark, and defile
His living monument, thou sacred Isle.
He needeth nought of us, true-hearted saint,
Nor storied stone, nor monumental plaint,
But much we need of him, while in his praise
Shall the memorial live of pure primeval days.