A Sequel to Don Juan — page 48: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

DON JUAN. 39 XCVITII. Tis hard to bid adieu to those who gave Life, light, and all that infancy can prize ; To know that they have glided to the grave, And that the clouds of death enwrap their eyes. The child will weep e’en when it cannot save Some favourite bird ;—but when a parent dies, W hose love in future it may seek in vain, How deep its grief, how exquisite its pain ! XCIX., Amidst those Alpine forests, where the oak Is hard as marble, I have seen the tree Whose strength has turned aside the woodman’s stroke, (Though dealt with all his right arm’s energy, ) And in whose trunk the iron hatchet broke, Leaving the monarch of the forest free To triumph in his conquest over man— (How seldom objects of mute nature can !) C. Then o’er the iron axe the bark has grown ; And the tall tree, upshooting in its pride, Has flourished, while the rapid years have flown— But still the iron has remained inside ! Thus, whether summer has with verdure strown The branches—or dread winter scattered wide The triple leaves,—that oak-tree ne’er can part From the cold steel embedded in its heart. COnmmiclbookxs.conn