A Jacobite's Epitaph
Thomas Babington Macaulay
1800 to 1859
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To my true king I offer'd free from stain
and faith; vain faith, and courage vain.
For him threw lands, honours, wealth, away,
And one dear hope, was more prized than they.
For him I languish'd a foreign clime,
Gray-hair'd with sorrow in my manhood's prime;
Heard on Lavernia Scargill's whispering trees,
And pined by for my lovelier Tees;
Beheld each night my home fever'd sleep,
Each morning started from the dream to weep;
Till God, who saw me tried too sorely, gave
resting-place I ask'd, an early grave.
O thou, whom leads to this nameless stone,
From that proud country was once mine own,
By those white cliffs I more must see,
By that dear language which I like thee,
Forget all feuds, and shed one English
O'er English dust. A broken heart lies here.