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Elegy on John Claudius Loudon
By John Robertson, then working at Chatsworth

Hark! hark! the sound - 'tis a funeral knell
Borne on the breath of day -
The mournful voice of the deep-toned bell -
For a spirit has wing'd his way.

'Tis not the man of wealth and state
That the world has now to mourn;
'Tis not the man that gold makes great
Who now to the tomb is borne.

No! no! we grieve, in the friend now gone,
No flattering slave of state;
But time world has lost by the death of one
Whose mind was truly great.

He wielded no sword in his country's cause,
But his pen was never still;
Tie studied each form of Nature's laws,
To lessen each human ill.

That voice is hush'd I - and lost the sound
Employ'd to raise the poor;
But the echo shall, by his works, be found
To reach the rich man's door.

He wakes no more ! -for the sleep of death
Encircles the earthly frame;
But the mind - so strong while it dwelt on earth -
Secured a living fame.

His pen is still! - and his spirit fled
To brighten a world on high:
The cold, cold earth is his lowly bed;
But his name shall never die!

Life of John Claudius Loudon his wife

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