FROM AN ITALIAN SONNET. SAID to Time, "This venerable pile, Its floor the earth, its roof the firmament, Whose was it once?" not, but fled He answered Fast as before. I turned to Fame, and asked, WRITTEN IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.1 OCTOBER 10, 1806. HOE'ER thou art, approach, and, with Mark where the small remains of There sleeps the dust of Fox for ever gone; 1 After the funeral of the Right Hon. Charles James Fox. ? Venez voir le peu qui nous reste de tant de grandeur, &c BOSSUET, Oraison funèbre de Louis de Bourbon. till do I see (while thro' the vaults of night Of those the Few, that for their Country stood Oh say, of Him now rests there but a name; What tho' with War the madding Nations rung, "Peace," when He spoke, was ever on his tongue! Amid the frowns of Power, the tricks of State, Fearless, resolved, and negligently great! In vain malignant vapours gathered round; He walked, erect, on consecrated ground. The clouds, that rise to quench the Orb of day, Reflect its splendour, and dissolve away! When in retreat He laid his thunder by, For lettered ease and calm Philosophy, Blest were his hours within the silent grove, Where still his god-like Spirit deigns to rove; Blest by the orphan's smile, the widow's prayer, For many a deed, long done in secret there. 1 Et rien enfin ne manque dans tous ces honneurs, que celui à qui on les rend.--BosSUET, Oraison funèbre de Louis de Bourbon, There shone his lamp on Homer's hallowed page. Foes on Thy grave shall meet, and mingle tears! WRITTEN AT DROPMORE, RENVILLE, to thee my gratitude is due For many an hour of studious musing here, For many a day-dream, such as hovered round Hafiz or Sadi; thro' the golden East, Search where we would, no fairer bowers than these, Thine own creation; where, called forth by thee, Slowly and silently thro' sun and shade, -Still to delight, instruct, whate'er the theme. WRITTEN AT STRATHFIELD SAYE.1 HESE are the groves a grateful people gave For noblest service; and, from age May they, to such as come with listening ear, Preyed, ere to arms the morning-trumpet called; For on, regardless of himself, He went; And, by no change elated or depressed, Fought, till he won th' imperishable wreath, Leading the conquerors captive; on he went, Bating nor heart nor hope, whoe'er opposed; The greatest warriors, in their turn, appearing; The last that came, the greatest of them all— One scattering hosts as born but to subdue, And even in bondage withering hearts with fear. 1 [Entitled in ed. 1839, "An Inscription, 18-." Probably written on visiting the Duke of Wellington in 1838.] 2 How strange, said he to me, are the impressions that sometimes follow a battle! After the battle of Assaye I slept in a farm-house, and so great had been the slaughter that whenever I awoke, which I did continually through the night, it struck me that I had lost all my friends, nor could I bring myself to think otherwise till morning came, and one by one I saw those that were living. When such the service, what the recompense? Yet, and I err not, a renown as fair, And fairer still, awaited him at home; Where to the last, day after day, he stood, The party-zeal, that round him raged, restraining; -His not to rest, while his the strength to serve.1 WRITTEN IN JULY, 1834. REY, thou hast served, and well, the sacred Cause That Hampden, Sidney died for. Thou hast stood, Scorning all thought of Self, from first to last, 1 On Friday, the 19th of November, 1830, there was an assembly at Bridgewater-House, a house which has long ceased to be, and of which no stone is now resting on another. It was there that I saw a Lady whose beauty was the least of her attractions, and she said, "I never see you now."-" When may I come?"-"Come on Sunday at Five."-" At Five then you shall see me."-"Remember Five." And through the evening, wherever I went, a voice followed me, repeating in a tone of mock solemnity, "Remember Five!"It was the voice of one who had overheard us; and little did he think what was to take place at Five. On Sunday when the time drew near, it struck me as I was leaving Lord Holland's, in Burlington Street, that I had some engagement, so little had I thought of it, and I repaired to the house, No. 4, in Carlton Gardens. There were the Duke of Wellington's horses at the door, and I said, "The Duke is here."-"But you are expected, Sır."-I went in and found him sitting with the lady of the house, the lady who had made the appointment, nor was it long before he spoke as follows: "They want me to place myself at the head of a Faction, but I tell them that I never will. "To-morrow I shall give up my Office and go down into my County to restore order there, if I can restore it. When I return, I shall take my place in Parliament-to approve when I can approve; and, when I cannot, to say so. I have now served my country forty years -twenty in the field and ten, if not more, in the Cabinet; nor, while I live, shall I be found wanting, wherever I may be. But never, no never, will I place myself at the head of a Faction." Having met Lord Grey who was to succeed him in his office again and again under my roof, and knowing our intimacy, he meant that these words should be repeated to him; and so they were, word for word, on that very night. "To the last," said Lord Grey," he fulfilled his promise." |