On the Death of Mr. John Le Capelain,
Artist.
|
Jersey! the torch that Genius held for thee, To tell the world what lov'd sons can be, Is quenched within the damp grave's gloomy night, And leaves us but the mem'ry of its light. And yet a light so bright, it breaks the gloom, Shining far! far! beyond its little tomb. Le Capelain, thou art gone! thy sun is set; But never! will thy countryment forget The pride with which they ever lov'd to claim The cherish'd birthright of thy honor'd name. Lov'd son of Genius! on thy sacred bier Will drop, with fervor's feelings, many a tear; Aye, many a tear from many a manly eye Will weep, with heartfelt grief, thy destiny; Weep it with love's so treasured envied gem Thy gentle heart had ever claim'd from them. Butwho can trace the anguish that must start Upon a sister's fondly clasping heart, When as she turns to name her lov'd! lov'd one, Her wreck'd heart feels that now it throbs alone, - That he is gone! gone to the home of Heaven! But she on earth is left, the wrecked! the riven, The bough on which the lightning's flash has spent Its pow'r to trace a living monument. Can sorrow such as this but tears reply, E'en to a country's gen'ral sympathy? But long! aye long! Le Capelain, thy bright fame Shall be a gem thy land will love to name; A land long grateful! for by thee was shown Jersey with pride can Genius call her own.
St. Helier's, 21st October, 1848 |
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