| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XVI. Crossed Hands and Closed Eyes
Epitaph on a Jacobite | | By Thomas Babington, Lord Macaulay (1800–1859) |
| | | 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, | 5 |
| Grey-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; | 10 |
| 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, | 15 |
| 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. | | | | |
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