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For them is Sorrow's purest sigh
O'er Ocean's heaving bosom sent:
In vain their bones unburied lie,
All earth becomes their monument!
A tomb is theirs on every page,
An epitaph on every tongue. The present hours, the future age,
For them bewail, to them belong.
For them the voice of festal mirth
Grows hushed, their name the only sound;
While deep Remembrance pours to Worth
The goblet's tributary round.
A theme to crowds that knew them not,
Lamented by admiring foes,
Who would not die the death they chose?
And, gallant Parker! thus enshrined
Thy life, thy fall, thy fame shall be;
And early valour, glowing, find
A model in thy memory.
But there are breasts that bleed with thee
In woe, that glory cannot quell; And shuddering hear of victory,
Where one so dear, so dauntless, fell.
Where shall they turn to mourn thee less ?
When cease to hear thy cherished name?
Time cannot teach forgetfulness,
While Grief's full heart is fed by Fame.
Alas! for them, though not for thee,
weep Deep for the dead the grief must be,
Who ne'er gave cause to mourn before.
FAREWELL to the Land, where the gloom of my Glory
Arose and o'ershadowed the earth with her name
She abandons me now,--but the
of her story,
The brightest or blackest, is filled with my fame.
I have warred with a world which vanquished me
When the meteor of Conquest allured me too far;
Farewell to thee, France !-when thy diadem crowned
I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth, But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found
Decayed in thy glory, and sunk in thy worth.
Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted
Instrifewith the storm, when their battles were won