TO my true king I offer'd 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 languish'd in a foreign clime, Gray-hair'd with sorrow in my manhood's prime; Heard on Lavernia Scargill's whispering trees, And pined by Arno for my lovelier Tees; Beheld each night my home in fever'd sleep, Each morning started from the dream to weep; Till God, who saw me tried too sorely, gave The resting-place I ask'd, 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 O'er English dust. A broken heart lies here. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO ABRAHAM LINCOLN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ROBERT OF LINCOLN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE HEART OF THE TREE by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER JEALOUS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TO THE SOUR READER by ROBERT HERRICK HYMN TO THE NIGHT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 30. THE HUNTER CAUGHT BY HIS OWN GAMER by PHILIP AYRES |