Page:Byron - Hours of idleness. A series of poems original and translated, by George Gordon Lord Byron a minor, 1807.djvu/29

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7


EPITAPH ON A FRIEND.

Αςτηρ τριν μεν ελαμπετ ενι ζωοισιν ἑωος.
Laertius.

OH! Friend! for ever lov'd, for ever dear!
What fruitless tears have bath'd thy honour'd bier!
What sighs re-echo'd to thy parting breath,
While 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 had'st lived, to bless my aching sight,
Thy comrade's honour, and thy friend's delight;
If, yet, thy gentle spirit hover nigh
The spot, where now thy mould'ring ashes lie,