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THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY,
   LORD MACAULAY

1800-1859

666                                   A Jacobites Epitaph

TO my true king I offerd 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 languishd in a foreign clime,
Gray-haird with sorrow in my manhoods prime;
Heard on Lavernia Scargills whispering trees,
And pined by Arno for my lovelier Tees;
Beheld each night my home in feverd sleep,
Each morning started from the dream to weep;
Till God, who saw me tried too sorely, gave
The resting-place I askd, 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
Oer English dust. A broken heart lies here.

 

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