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None ever knew his name— Honoured, or one of shame, Highborn or lowly; Only upon that tree Two letters, J and C, Carved by him, mark where he Lay dying slowly.

Why came he to the West? Had then the parent nest Grown so distasteful? What cause had he to shun Life, ere ’twas well begun? Was he that youngest son, Of substance wasteful?

Were Fate and he at war? Was it a penance, or Renunciation? Is it a glad release? Has he at length found peace, Now Death hath bid him cease Peregrination?