I.
How nobly sits old age upon the brave,
Whose falling years preserve the hopes of youth!
Its early love of liberty and truth;
When genius all its treasures gladly gave
To raise up the oppressed, to free the slave;
To make mankind live purely, god-like, free!
And such, O Landor, do we find in thee!
Our memories will “garner up” thy name,
As one who battled bravely for the right;
Who never stooped to thought or deed of shame,
But walked the earth in rare unsullied might;
In strength and purity aye winning fame.
We mourn the world no more will hear thy voice,
But in thy great achievements we rejoice.
II.
How shall we weave a wreath for thy broad brow?
Words are but feeble instruments to prove
How much we feel for thee, how deeply love
Thy solitary nobleness, and how
In thy declining years we would avow
The gratitude whose fragrant word might cheer
Thy present hour. But why? thou needest not
Such utterances. Serene, sublime, and clear
Must be the thoughts which bless thy honoured lot;
Pure thoughts and noble deeds attend on thee;
Thy past hath nothing thou hast need to blot;
And this, in truth, thy epitaph might be:
“He scorned the lures of power, and pomp, and pride,
And for the right he lived, and for the right he died.”
JOHN ALFRED LANGFORD.