A PICTURE AT NEWSTEAD
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hat made my heart, at Newstead, fullest swell?--'Twas not the thought of Byron, of his cryStormily sweet, his Titan-agony;It was the sight of that Lord Arundel Who struck, in heat, his child he loved so well,And his child's reason flicker'd, and did die.Painted (he will'd it) in the galleryThey hang; the picture doth the story tell. Behold the stern, mail'd father, staff in hand!The little fair-hair'd son, with vacant gaze,Where no more lights of sense or knowledge are! Methinks the woe, which made that father standBaring his dumb remorse to future days,Was woe than Byron's woe more tragic far.
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