Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/270

234 The death-bolts deadliest the thinned files along,

Even where the thickest of War's tempest lowered,

They reached no nobler breast than thine, young, gallant Howard!

XXX.

There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee,

And mine were nothing, had I such to give:

But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree,

Which living waves where thou didst cease to live,

And saw around me the wide field revive

With fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring

Come forth her work of gladness to contrive,

With all her reckless birds upon the wing,

I turned from all she brought to those she could not bring.N6