Introduction to the Tale of Cadwal

WHAT!—shall the Muse, in labour'd rhymes,
Retrace events of former times,
And shall no duteous verse attend
On him who was my earliest friend?
Forbid it ev'ry feeling good,
Obedience, love, and gratitude!

Remembrance bears his image strong
And perfect, as when life was young;
His image rough, his mien austere,
His heart kind, tender, and sincere;
Ev'n now he seems to meet my sight,
And fancy trembles with delight.
Oft, when at eve I trace the glade,
My mind pourtrays him in the shade,
And oft benignant smiles he beams,
Presiding o'er my midnight dreams.

Still, SIRE BELOV'D, my fancy fill,
Exert thine influence o'er me still,
Still through my soul thy virtues stream,
And mingle with life's latest dream,
Till, wing'd for yon aetherial plain,
I seek thy lov'd embrace again.