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But not, my child, with life's precarious fire,
The immortal ties of Nature fhall expire ;
These shall resist the triumph of decay,
When time is o'er, and worlds have pass'd away ;
Cold in the duft this perish'd heart may lie,
But that which warm'd it once shall never die !
That spark unburied in its mortal frame,
Shall beam on Joy's interminable years,
Unveil'd by darkness-unasluag'd by tears!
6. Yet, on the barren shore and stormy deep
One tedious watch is Conrad doom'd to weep;
But when I gain the home without a friend,
And press th' uneasy couch where none attend,
This last embrace, still cherith'd in my heart,
Shall calm the struggling spirit ere it part !
Thy darling form shall seem to hover nigh,
And hush the groan of life's last agony !
“ Farewell! when strangers lift thy father's bier,
And place my namelefs stone without a tear;
When each returning pledge hath told my
That Conrad's tomb is on the desert pild ;
And when the dream of troubled fancy sees
Its lonely rank-grass waving in the breeze;
Who then will soothe thy grief, when mine is o'er?
Who will protect thee, helpless Ellenore ?
Shall secret scenes thy filial forrows hide,
Ah! no; methinks the generous and the good
Will woo thee from the shades of folitude !
O’er friendless grief compassion shall awake,
Inspiring thought of rapture yet to be,
The tears of love were hopeless, but for thee!
If in that frame no deathless fpirit dwell,
If that faint murmur be the laft farewell ;
If fate unite the faithful but to part,
Why is their memory sacred to the heart !
Why does the Brother of my childhood feem
Restor'd a while in every pleafing dream?
Why do I joy the lonely spot to view,
By artless friendship blest when life was new?
Eternal Hope ! when yonder spheres sublime
Peal'd their first notes to found the march of Time,
Thy joyous youth began-but not to fade.
When all the fifter planets have decay'd;
When rapt in fire the realms of ether glow,
And Heav'n's last thunder shakes the world below;
Thou, undismay'd, shalt o'er the ruin smile,
And light thy torch at Nature's funeral pile !
LND OF PART SECOND.
NOTES ON PART I.
And such thy ftrength-inspiring aid that bore
The hardy Byron to his native shore.
The following picture of his own distress, given by
Byron in his fimple and interesting narrative, justifies the description in p. 10. After relating the barbarity of the
Indian Cacique to his child, he proceeds thus:-“A day
or-two after, we put to sea again, and crossed the great bay I mentioned we had been at the bottom of, when we first hawled away to the westward. The land here