THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY,

LORD MACAULAY

A Jacobite's Epitaph

' I O my true king I offer'd free from stain

• Courage and faith ; vain faith, and courage vain.

For him I threw lands, honours, wealth, away, And one dear hope, that was more prized than they. For him I languished in a foreign clime, Gray-hair'd with sorrow in my manhood's prime ; Heard on Lavernia Scargill's whispering trees, And pined by Arno for my lovelier Tees ; Beheld each night my home in fever'd sleep, Each morning started from the dream to weep; Till God, who saw me tried too sorely, gave The resting-place I ask'd, an early grave. O thou, whom chance leads to this nameless stone, From that proud country which was once mine own, By those white cliffs I never more must see, By that dear language which I spake like thee, Forget all feuds, and shed one English tear O'er English dust. A broken heart lies here.

��WILLIAM BARNES 6f8. Mater T>olorosa

I'D a dream to-night As I fell asleep, O ! the touching sight Makes me stiil to weep:

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