Oh! hardy thou wert-even now little care Might revive thy young head, and thy wounds gently heal : But thou wert not fated affection to share For who could suppose that a Stranger would feel? Ah, droop not, my Oak! lift thy head for a while; Oh, live then, my Oak! tow'r aloft from the weeds, And still may thy branches their beauty display. Oh! yet, if maturity's years may be thine, Though I shall lie low in the cavern of death, On thy leaves yet the day-beam of ages may shine, Uninjured by time, or the rude winter's breath. For centuries still may thy boughs lightly wave And as he, with his boys, shall revisit this spot, Remembrance still hallows the dust of the dead. And here, will they say, when in life's glowing prime, 1807. [First published 1832.] ON REVISITING HARROW." HERE once engaged the stranger's view Deeply she cut-but not erased, The characters were still so plain, Repentance placed them as before; Thus might the Record now have been ; September, 1807. EPITAPH ON JOHN ADAMS, OF SOUTHWELL, JOHN ADAMS lies here, of the parish of Southwell, September, 1807. 6 Some years ago, when at Harrow, a friend of the author engraved on a particular spot the names of both, with a few additional words, as a memorial. Afterwards, on receiving some real or imagined injury, the author destroyed the frail record before he left Harrow. On revisiting the place in 1807, he wrote under it these stanzas. TO MY SON." THOSE flaxen locks, those eyes of blue, And touch thy father's heart, my Boy! And thou canst lisp a father's name— Her lowly grave the turf has prest, And yields thee scarce a name on earth ; Why, let the world unfeeling frown, Oh, 'twill be sweet in thee to trace, 7 [So much were Lord Byron's poems founded on fact, that Mr. Moore thought on the one hand that these verses would not have been written if the case was fictitious, and on the other, that there would have been a further allusion to it if the circumstance had been true. He had forgotten that Lord Byron refers in Don Juan (canto xvi., st. 61) to "a sad mishap" of the kind, and in a manner which leaves no doubt of its reality.] Ere half my glass of life is run, Although so young thy heedless sire, 1807. [First published 1830.] FAREWELL! IF EVER FONDEST PRAYER. FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer But waft thy name beyond the sky. Oh! more than tears of blood can tell, These lips are mute, these eyes are dry ; The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. I only feel-Farewell!-Farewell! 1808. BRIGHT BE THE PLACE OF THY SOUL. BRIGHT be the place of thy soul! In the orbs of the blessed to shine. On earth thou wert all but divine, Light be the turf of thy tomb! May its verdure like emeralds be: There should not be the shadow of gloom In aught that reminds us of thee. Young flowers and an evergreen tree But nor cypress nor yew let us see; For why should we mourn for the blest! WHEN WE TWO PARTED. WHEN we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. 1808. |