Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/283

The bard whose wild, inspiring lays,
E'en in gay childhood's earliest days,
    First woke in Osbert's kindling breast,
    The flame that will not be represt,
The pulse that throbs for praise!
Those lays had banished from his eye,
The bright, soft tears of infancy,
Had soothed the boy to calm repose,
Had hushed his bosom's earliest woes;
And when the light of thought awoke,
When first young reason's day-spring broke,
More powerful still, they bade arise,
His spirit's burning energies!
Then the bright dream of glory warmed,
Then the loud pealing war-song charmed,
The legends of each martial line,
The battle-tales of Palestine;
And oft, since then, his deeds had proved,
Themes of the lofty lays he loved!
Now, at triumphant love's command,
Since Osbert leaves his native land,