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When folly's gay pursuits were o'er,
Weep, mourner, for the joys that fade,
Weep, mourner, for the friends that pass
Yet though thy pleasure may depart,
Written by Lord Byron, a few weeks before his Death, on the
blank leaf of a Bible,
Within this awful volume lies
What various hindrances we meet
Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw,
Restraining prayer, we cease to fight;
While Moses stood with arms spread wide,
Have you no words ? Ah ! think again,
Were half the breath thus vainly spent,
SONG TO INEZ.
When late I saw thy favourite child,
I thought my jealous heart would break But when the unconscious infant smiled
I kissed it for its mother's sake.
I kissed it—and repressed my sighs,
Its father in its face to see ;
And they were all to love and me.
Fair one, adieu ! I must away ;
Since thou art blessed, I'll not repine ; But near thee I can never stay,
My heart again would soon be thine.
When coldness wraps the suffering clay,
Ah! whither strays the immortal mind ? It cannot die, it cannot stay,
But leaves its darkened dust behind. Then, unembodied, doth it trace
By steps each planet's heavenly way ? Or fill at once the realms of space,
A thing of eyes, that all survey?
Eternal, boundless, undecayed,
A thought unseen, but seeing all, All, all in earth, or skies displayed,
Shall it survey, shall it recall: Each fainter trace that
holds So darkly of departed years, In one broad glance the soul beholds,
And all that was at once appears.