Lord Byron

To a lady weeping

Weep, daughter of a royal line,

A Sire's disgrace, a realm's decay;

Ah, happy! if each tear of thine

Could wash a father's fault away!

 

Weep—for thy tears are Virtue's tears—

Auspicious to these suffering isles;

And be each drop in future years

Repaid thee by thy people's smiles!