6. Why not? since through life's little day ON THE DEATH OF SIR PETER PARKER, BART. 1. THERE is a tear for all that die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave; 2. For them is Sorrow's purest sigh_ All earth becomes their monument! 3. A tomb is theirs on every page, 4. For them the voice of festal mirth Grows hush'd, their name the only sound; While deep Remembrance pours to Worth The goblet's tributary round. 5. A theme to crowds that knew them not, Who would not share their glorious lot? 6. And, gallant Parker! thus enshrined Thy life, thy fall, thy fame shall be; And early valour, glowing, find 7. But there are breasts that bleed with thee Where one so dear, so dauntless, fell. 8. Where shall they turn to mourn thee less? When cease to hear thy cherish'd name? Time cannot teach forgetfulness, While Grief's full heart is fed by Fame. 9. Alas! for them, though not for thee, Who ne'er gave cause to mourn before. TO A LADY WEEPING. 1. WEEP, daughter of a royal line, 2. Weep-for thy tears are Virtue's tears— And be each drop in future years March, 1812. FROM THE TURKISH. 1. THE chain I gave was fair to view, And ill deserved the fate it found. 2. These gifts were charm'd by secret spell And they have done their duty well, Alas! they could not teach thee thine. ཉ་ That chain was firm in every link, But not to bear a stranger's touch; That lute was sweet-till thou could'st think In other hands its notes were such. 4. Let him, who from thy neck unbound 5. When thou wert changed, they alter'd too; The chain is broke, the music mute: 'Tis past-to them and thee adieu False heart, frail chain, and silent lute. |