There is a tear for all that die, <br />A mourner o'er the humblest grave; <br />But nations swell the funeral cry, <br />And Triumph weeps above the brave. <br /> <br />For them is Sorrow's purest sigh <br />O'er Ocean's heaving bosom sent: <br />In vain their bones unburied lie, <br />All earth becomes their monument! <br /> <br />A tomb is theirs on every page, <br />An epitaph on every tongue: <br />The present hours, the future age, <br />For them bewail, to them belong. <br /> <br />For them the voice of festal mirth <br />Grows hush'd, their name the only sound; <br />While deep Remembrance pours to Worth <br />The goblet's tributary round. <br /> <br />A theme to crowds that knew them not, <br />Lamented by admiring foes, <br />Who would not share their glorious lot? <br />Who would not die the death they chose? <br /> <br />And, gallant Parker! thus enshrined <br />Thy life, thy fall, thy fame shall be; <br />And early valour, glowing, find <br />A model in thy memory. <br /> <br />But there are breasts that bleed with thee <br />In woe, that glory cannot quell; <br />And shuddering hear of victory <br />Where one so dear, so dauntless, fell. <br /> <br />Where shall they turn to mourn thee less? <br />When cease to hear thy cherish'd name? <br />Time cannot teach forgetfulness <br />While Grief's full heart is fed by Fame. <br /> <br />Alas! for them, though not for thee, <br />They cannot choose but weep the more; <br />Deep for the dead the grief must be, <br />Who ne'er gave cause to mourn before. <br /> <br />October 1814.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/elegiac-stanzas-on-the-death-of-sir-peter-parker-bart/
