Tyrants have bowed thy children to the dust,
Some for their worth--and some who broke their trust!
And there was _one_ among thy race, who died
To Henry's shame!--his country's boast and pride:
Immortal Surrey!--Offspring of the Muse!
Bold as the lion, gentle as the dews
That fall on flowers to 'wake their odorous breath,
And shield their blossoms from the touch of death,
Surrey!--thy fate was wept by countless eyes,
A nation's woe assailed the pitying skies,
When thy pure spirit left this scene of strife,
And soared to him who breathed it into life:
Thy funeral knell pealed o'er the world!--thy fall
Was mourned by hearts that loved thee, mourned by all--
All, save thy murderers!--thou hast won thy crown:
And _thou_, fair Framlinghame! a bright renown,
Yes! thy rich temple holds the stately tomb,
Where sleeps the Poet in his lasting home,
Lamented Surrey!--hero, bard divine,
Pride, grace, and glory of brave Norfolk's line.
Departed spirit!--Oh! I love to hold
Communion sweet with lofty minds of old,
To catch a spark of that celestial fire
Which glows and kindles in thy rapturous lyre;
Though varying themes demand my future lays,
Yet thus my soul a willing homage pays
To that bright glory which illumes thy name,
Though naught can raise the splendour of thy fame!

Mr. Bird is also advantageously known as the author of the Vale of