---

George Gordon Byron - Epitaph On A Beloved Friend
Work rating: Medium

Oh, Friend! for ever loved, for ever dear!
What fruitless tears have bathed thy honour`d bier!
What sighs re`echo`d to thy parting breath,
Wilst thou wast struggling in the pangs of death!
Could tears retard the tyrant in his course;
Could sighs avert his dart`s relentless force;
Could youth and virtue claim a short delay,
Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey;
Thou still hadst lived to bless my aching sight,
Thy comrade`s honour and thy friends delight.
If yet thy gentle spirit hover nigh
The spot where now thy mouldering ashes lie,
Here wilt thou read, recorded on my heart,
A grief too deep to trust the sculptor`s art.
No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep,
But living statues there are seen to weep;
Affliction`s semblance bands not o`er thy tomb,
Affliction`s self deplores thy youthful doom.
What though thy sire lament his failing line,
A father`s sorrows cannot equal mine!
Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer,
Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here:
But who with me shall hold thy former place?
Thine image what new friendship can efface?
Ah, none! - a father`s tears will cease to flow,
Time will assuage an infant brother`s woe;
To all, save one, is consolation known,
While solitary friendship sighs alone.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.