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Near Askalon's Towers John of Horiston1 slumbers,

Unnerv'd is the hand of his minstrel by death.

Paul and Hubert too sleep in the valley of Cressy,

For the safety of Edward and ENGLAND they fell,

My fathers! the tears of your country redress ye,

How you fought! how you died! still her annals can tell.

On 2Marston with Rupert3                'gainst traitors contending,

Four Brothers enrich'd with their blood the bleak field

For Charles the Martyr their country defending,

Till death their attachment to royalty scal'd.

Shades of heroes farewell! your descendant departing,

From the seat of his ancestors, bids ye adieu!

Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting

New courage, he'll think upon glory, and you.

Though a tear dims his eye at this sad separation,

'Tis nature, not fear, which commands his regret;

Far distant he goes with the same emulation,

In the grave, he alone can his fathers forget.

Your fame, and your memory, still will he cherish,

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