Infantine effusions By Ernest Charles Jones, written by him, between the eighth and tenth years of his age |
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LINES. Written on the death of my Godfather, the late Lord Charles Murray (son of the Duke of Athol)
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 | Infantine effusions |  |
LINES. Written on the death of my Godfather, the late Lord Charles Murray (son of the Duke of Athol)
who sacrificed his fortune and his life in the cause of the Greeks.
On Helle's wave the surf roll'd high
And dash'd the foaming spray
Uncertain meteors light the sky
The sun has shed his ray
And dash'd the foaming spray
Uncertain meteors light the sky
The sun has shed his ray
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He sunk, upon the ocean's breast
And when he'd gone 'twas night
And Helle's wave, is now unblest
When he withdraws his light.
And when he'd gone 'twas night
And Helle's wave, is now unblest
When he withdraws his light.
He sunk, behind a watery cloud
The murky storm roll'd on
That mingled with the water's shroud—
The sun's bright ray is gone.
The murky storm roll'd on
That mingled with the water's shroud—
The sun's bright ray is gone.
Thus, generous Murray! pass'd away
In vain, was rank and name;
Like Sol, he shed his parting ray
Recorded lives in fame.
In vain, was rank and name;
Like Sol, he shed his parting ray
Recorded lives in fame.
The murky storm he'd kept behind
(Unbent, without controul)
Roll'd swiftly on the wings of wind
Yet peaceful—rests his soul.
(Unbent, without controul)
Roll'd swiftly on the wings of wind
Yet peaceful—rests his soul.
Though storms roll o'er—unhurt the brave—
Though the blast of war is dread
He peaceful rests, in the womb of the grave
In the cause of Greece—he bled.
Though the blast of war is dread
He peaceful rests, in the womb of the grave
In the cause of Greece—he bled.
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Unto the earth, he bade farewell
Ye Grecian armies mourn,
The Ocean rolls his funeral knell
Thy champion—now is gone!
Ye Grecian armies mourn,
The Ocean rolls his funeral knell
Thy champion—now is gone!
And let the mourning cypress wave
The vine caress thy tomb
And balmy odours bless thy grave,
And scenting woodbines bloom.
The vine caress thy tomb
And balmy odours bless thy grave,
And scenting woodbines bloom.
| Infantine effusions | |