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Paul and Hubert too sleep in the valley of Cressy;
For the safety of Edward and England they fell; My Fathers! the tears of your country redress ye;
How you fought, how you died, still her annals can tell.
On Marston(1), with Rupert (2)’gainst traitors contending,
Four brothers enriched with their blood the bleak field; For the rights of a monarch, their country defending,
Till death their attachment to royalty seal’d.
Shades of heroes, farewell! your descendant departing
From the seat of his ancestors bids you adieu! Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting New courage, he'll think upon glory and you.
7. Though a tear dim his eye al this sad separation,
'Tis nature, not fear, that excites his regret; Far distant he goes, with the same emulation: The fame of his Fathers he ne'er can forget.
8. That fame, and that memory, still will he cherish,
He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown; Like you will he live, or like you will he perish; When decay'd, may he mingle his dust with your own.
1803. (1) The battle of Marston Moor, where the adherents of Charles I were defeated.
(2) Son of the Elector Palatine, and related to Charles I. He afterwards commanded the fleet, in the reign of Charles II.
EPITAPH ON A FRIEND.
When, to their airy hall, my Fathers' voice .
When Friendship or Love
Our sympathies move;
The lips may beguile
With a dimple or smile,
Too oft is a smile
But the hypocrite's wile, To mask detestation, or fear;
Give me the soft sigb,
Whilst the soul-telling eye
Mild Charity's glow,
To us mortals below,
Compassion will melt
Where this virtue is felt,
The man, doom'd to sail
As he bends o'er the wave,
The Soldier braves death,
For a fanciful wreath, In Glory's romantic career; . But he raises the foe,
When in battle laid low, And bathcs ev'ry wound with a Tear.
If, with high-bounding pride,
All his toils are repaid,
When, embracing the maid, From her eyelid he kisses the Tear.
Sweet scene of my youth,
Seat of Friendship and Truth,
Loth to leave thee, I mourn’d,
For a last look I turn’d, But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear.
Though my vows I can pour
To my Mary no more,
In the shade of her bow'r, i I remember the hour,
She rewarded those vows with a Tear.
By another possest,
May she live ever blest,
With a sigh I resign
What I once thought was mine, And forgive her deceit with a Tear.