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No more to chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Tara swells :
Its tale of ruin tells.
The only throb she gives
To show that still she lives.
GEORGE GORDON NOEL, LORD BYRON
Childe Harold's Farewell to England
Adieu, adieu! my native shore
Fades o'er the waters blue;
And shrieks the wild sea mew.
We follow in his flight;
My native land — Good-night.
A few short hours and he will rise
To give the morrow birth;
But not my mother earth.
CHILDE HAROLD'S FAREWELL
Deserted is my own good hall,
Its hearth is desolate;
My dog howls at the gate.
“Come hither, hither, my little page!
Why dost thou weep and wail ?
Or tremble at the gale?
Our ship is swift and strong;
More merrily along."
“Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high,
I fear not wave nor wind :
Am sorrowful in mind;
A mother whom I love,
But thee — and One above.
“My father blessed me fervently,
Yet did not much complain; But sorely will my mother sigh
Till I come back again. 'Enough, enough, my little lad!
Such tears become thine eye;
If I thy guileless bosom had,
Mine own would not be dry.”
The Night before Waterloo
There was a sound of revelry by night,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, 10 And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising
Did ye not hear it? - No; 'twas but the wind,
On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined; 15 No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 20 Arm! arm ! it is—it is—the cannon's opening roar!
Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
THE NIGHT BEFORE WATERLOO
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
They come! they come !”
Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
- From "CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE."
HENRY FRANCIS LYTE
Abide with Me
Abide with me! Fast falls the eventide;
5 Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
I need Thy presence every passing hour; 10 What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power ?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be ? Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless :
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness. 15 Where is Death's sting? Where, Grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes,