(As to their number,) to their dignities. She whom we celebrate is gone before: She who had here so much essential joy, As no chance could distract, much less destroy; Who with God's presence was acquainted so, (Hearing and speaking to him,) as to know His face in any natural stone or tree was grown Was her first Parent's fault, and not her own: Who, being solicited to any act, Still heard God pleading his safe pre-contract: Who, by a faithful confidence was here Betrothed to God, and now is married there: Whose twilights were more clear than our mid-day; Who dreamed devoutlier than most Unbodied choose a sanctuary. I twine My hopes of being remembered in my line With my land's language; if too fond and far These aspirations in their scope incline, If my fame should be as my fortunes are, Of hasty growth and blight, and dull Oblivion bar My name from out the temple where the dead Are honored by the nations - let it be, And light the laurels on a loftier head! And be the Spartan's epitaph on me, "Sparta hath many a worthier son than he." BYRON. FARE THEE WELL. FARE thee well! and if forever, 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft has lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again: Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show! Then thou wouldst at last discover 'Twas not well to spurn it so. Though the world for this commend thee, Though it smile upon the blow, Even its praises must offend thee, Founded on another's woe. Though my many faults defaced me, Could no other arm be found Than the one which once embraced |