But oh! those deeds that never fade,

By glowing lips shall oft be woke,
Altho', without a tomb's parade,

Thou slumberest in thy martial cloak.

Thy last, best field, was freedom's fortAnd fame unfolds to history's view,

With Poictiers, Crecy, Agincourt,

Triumphant Waterloo!

ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND*

WHO DIED AT NAPLES, 1820

And is thy sun for ever set?

And are thy pains and pleasures o'er?
I little thought, when last we met,

That we should meet on earth no more!

For I had fondly hoped, ere long,

Those hours, I passed, of old with thee

Might haply be renewed among

The classic haunts of Italy.

*This and the preceding tribute are to the memory of two brothers, who were, successively, the heirs presumptive to the titles and estates of Dufferin and Claneboy.

But when I reach that lovely land

Whose wonders led thee o'er the wave,

It will not be to clasp thy hand

But gaze upon thy early grave!

And, ere another summer fade,
A pilgrim to a distant shrine

Shall seek the spot where thou art laid,
And kneel beside that grave of thine.

And if some stranger, drawing near, While o'er thy quiet couch I bend, Should ask for whom I shed the tearI'll tell him that thou wast my friend.

I'll tell him, many a heart was thine
Beyond the blue and bounding sea:
That thou wast of a noble line-

And all the hopes that died with thee.

And then we'll plant the laurel bough

Above thy narrow bed to bloom-
Since death denied it to thy brow,

Its leaves shall tremble o'er thy tomb.

STANZAS

When youth, like a fountain, reflected whatever
Could flash on the heart or repose on the eye,

And shadow or sunshine succeeded for ever,

My joy and my grief were—a smile or a sigh. like a fountain the frost ices o'er,

But now,

The blast or the beam can awake me no more:

When tempests are blowing, and sunbeams are glowing,

The heart neither quivers nor glows as before.