Lo! Byron's tomb! Here, deeply pensive, scan The greatness, and the littleness of man. In timeless death here Freedom's Martyr sleeps, Whom, her lost Champion, Greece, desponding, weeps....
Lo! here, on this lone isle amid the deeps, From his proud height of conquest, greatness hurl'd, Buried in silent night, Napoleon sleeps! Long Gallia's boast, the wonder of the world! ...
Lo! here are Nelson's honour'd relics laid; Britons! your Country's Genius calls you here, And bids you pay to your lost Hero's shade The noble homage of a patriot tear. ...
What, what can knowledge, virtue, fame, avail? Crown they with happiness our mortal state? Ah! no: what dire, unthought-of woes assail! O wretched Man! thou art the slave of fate. ...
Here lies interr'd Voltaire; no letter'd name Can boast more brilliant, more extensive fame. On him what various gifts did heaven confer! Poet, historian, wit, philosopher;...
Champion of justice and humanity, He toil'd, through life, to set the Negro free: At length, Britannia spoke the godlike word Burst were the bonds, the shouts of Freedom heard!...
Crippled his limbs, and sightless are his eyes; I view the youth, and feel compassion rise. He sings! how sweet the notes! in pleased amaze I listen, listen, and admiring gaze....
Thou Cherub fair! in whose blue, sparkling eye New joys, anticipated, ever play; Celestial Hope! with whose all-potent sway The moral elements of life comply; At thy melodious voice their jarrings cease,...
I felt thee, Horror! rush upon my soul, Thy hideous band my frighted fancy saw; Spare me, O spare me! cease thy dire controul, And let my trembling hand the vision draw. ...
This, this is inspiration's hour! Poetic Genius, rushing on my soul, Rouses her every sense, her every power, And with a force too mighty to controul Inspires the warm, enthusiastic song:...
Whence the shouts of public joy, Whence the galaxies of light, That strike the deafen'd ear? That charm the dazzled sight? While Night, arrested in her highest way,...
Thanks for thy song, sweet Bird! thanks for thy song! O! 'twas delightful; how have I been lost As in a blissful dream! how has my soul Been wafted in a sea of melody!...
What majesty! what elegance and grace! The form how perfect! how divine the face! In admiration rapt, I gazing stand: Is this a statue wrought by mortal hand? No! 'tis Apollo's self, methinks I see;...
Ye scenes beloved! O welcome once again! Forbidden long to my desiring sight, Now, now! triumphant o'er disease and pain, I visit ye with fresh, increased delight. ...
Again has Time his annual circle run, And April ushers in my natal day: Since first my infant eyes beheld the sun, How many a year has swiftly roll'd away! Full half my thread of life the Fates have spun;...