Epitaph on a Jacobite by Thomas Babington MacAulay

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.

From: MacAulay, Thomas Babington, The Poetical Works of Lord MacAulay, 1884, John W. Lovell Company: New York, pp. 198-199.
(https://archive.org/stream/poeticalworksofl00maca#page/198/mode/2up)

Date: 1845

By: Thomas Babington MacAulay (1800-1859)

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