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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.

5.

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.

6.

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.
Αςτηρ πριν μεν ελαμπεσ ενι ζωοισιν εωος.

: LAERTIUS.
OH! Friend! for ever lop'd, for ever dear!
What fruitless tears have bath’d thy honour'd bier!
What sighs re-echo'd to thy parting breath,
While thou wast struggling in the pangs of death!
Could tears retard the tyrant in his course ;
Could sighs avert his dart's relentless force;
Could youth and virtue claim a short delay,
Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey;
Thou still hadst liv'd to bless my aching sight,
Thy comrade's honour, and thy friend's delight.
If, yet, thy gentle spirit hover nigh
The spot where now thy inould'ring ashes lie,
Here wilt thou read, recorded on my heart,
A grief too deep to trust the sculptor's art.
No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep,
But living statues there are seen to weep;
Affliction's semblance bends not o’er thy tomb,
Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom.
What though thy sire lament his failing line,
A father's sorrows cannot equal mine!
Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer,
Yet, other offspring sooth his anguish here :
But, who with me shall hold thy former place?
Thine image, what new friendship can efface?
Ab, none ! a father's tears will cease to flow,
Time will assuage an infant brother's woe;
To all, save one, is consolation kuown,
While solilary Friendship sighs alone.

A FRAGMENT.

When, to their airy hall, my Fathers' voice .
Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice;
When, pois’d upon the gale, my forrn shall ride,
Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side ;
Oh! may my shade behold no sculptur'd urns,
To mark the spot where earth to earth returns :
No lengthen’d 'scroll, no praise-encumber'd stone ;
My epitaph shall be my name alone :
If that with honour fail to crown my clay,
Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay ;
That, only that, shall single out the spot,'
By that remember'd, or with that forgot.

1803.

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When Friendship or Love

Our sympathies move;
When Truth, in a glance, should appear's

The lips may beguile

With a dimple or smile,
But the test of affection's a Tear,

2.

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
Is dimm’d, for a time, with a Tear.

3.

Mild Charity's glow,

To us mortals below,
Shews the soul from barbarity clear ;

Compassion will melt

Where this virtue is felt,
And its dew is diffusd in a Tear.

The man, doom'd to sail
With the blast of the gale,
Through billows Atlantic to steer;

As he bends o'er the wave,
Which may soon be his grave,
The green sparkles bright with a Tear.

5.

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,
He return to his bride,
Renouncing the gore-crimson'd spear;

All his toils are repaid,

When, embracing the maid, From her eyelid he kisses the Tear.

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Sweet scene of my youth,

Seat of Friendship and Truth,
Where Love chas'd each fast-fleeting year;

Loth to leave thee, I mourn’d,

For a last look I turn’d, But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear.

8.

Though my vows I can pour

To my Mary no more,
My Mary, to Love once so dear;

In the shade of her bow'r, i I remember the hour,

She rewarded those vows with a Tear.

9:

By another possest,

May she live ever blest,
Her name still my heart must revere;

With a sigh I resign

What I once thought was mine, And forgive her deceit with a Tear.

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