ON THE DEATH OF SIR PETER PARKER, BART. 1. THERE is a tear for all that die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave; And Triumph weeps above the brave. 2. For them is Sorrow's purest sigh In vain their bones unburied lie, All earth becomes their monument! 3. A tomb is theirs on every page, An epitaph on every tongue. For them bewail, to them belong. 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? Who would not die the death they chose? 6. And, gallant Parker! thus enshrined Thy life, thy fall, thy fame shall be; And early valour, glowing, find A model in thy memory. 7. 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. 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. T VOL. IV. TO A LADY WEEPING. 1. WEEP, daughter of a royal line, A Sire's disgrace, a realm's decay; Ah, happy! if each tear of thine Could wash a father's fault away! 2. Weep-for thy tears are Virtue's tears- 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. 3. 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. |