Nicholas Toms Carrington

Joanna Carey, "Tribute to the Memory of Mr. Carrington" Gentleman's Magazine 100 (Supplement to Part II, 1830) 633.

Devonia, lament! for that spirit is fled,
Who erst o'er thy beauties new brilliancy shed.
Alas! I could weep, when I think that no more
His voice shall be heard on thy wave-beaten shore.

Full dear to my heart was the lay that he sung,
For it led me once more thy green vallies among—
Led me back, for a while, from the world and its strife,
To the hopes that illume the gay morning of life.

He lov'd thee, Devonia, with feelings that threw
Fresher tints o'er each object that broke on his view,
As he pensively stray'd where the rivers glide by,
Or thy tors, in their pride, lift their heads to the sky.

Farewell, gentle Bard! when I hail'd with delight,
The dawn of thy genius, — so vivid and bright—
I dream'd that kind hearts, taught to glow at thy name,
Would strew flowers in thy path to the temple of Fame.

Yes, I dream'd! — Such illusions are dear — but they fly—
Like the meteor's bright flash from the wanderer's eye—
They fly — and more dreary the prospect appears,
That frown on the view through the visits of years.

Alas! what were life, if the hopes, that arise
In the strength of our faith, did not soar to the skies;
To the realms of the blest, where no care shall alloy
The pure raptures they taste at the fountain of joy?

There the Poet of Nature no longer shall grieve
O'er the earth-born illusions, that charm'd to deceive:
There his spirit, releas'd from its burden of clay,
Shall exult in the strength that no time can decay.

And here — here on earth — till true Feeling shall die—
His name shall be honour'd, and breath'd with a sigh—
Here the flowers he gather'd unfaded shall bloom,
And the Genius of Devon lament o'er his tomb.
Nov. 10.