Thy cloisters, pervious to the wintry showers;
These, these he views, and views them but to weep.
Yet are his tears no emblem of regret:
Cherish'd Affection only bids them flow;
Pride, Hope, and Love, forbid him to forget,
But warm his bosom, with impassion'd glow.
Yet he prefers thee, to the gilded domes,
Or gewgaw grottos, of the vainly great;
Yet lingers 'mid thy damp and mossy tombs,
Nor breathes a murmur 'gainst the will of Fate.
Haply thy sun, emerging, yet, may shine,
Thee to irradiate with meridian ray;
Hours, splendid as the past, may still be thine,
And bless thy future, as thy former day.
- [An indication of Byron's feelings towards Newstead in his younger days will be found in his letter to his mother of March 6, 1809.]
- Fortune may smile upon a future line,
And heaven restore an ever-cloudless day.—[P. on V. Occasions. Hours of Idleness.]