Carved Tablet Approximately 40 Metres South West Of Swiss Cottage

TL 1444 OLD WARDEN THE SWISS GARDEN

11/185 Carved tablet approx 40 metres SW of the Swiss Cottage

• II

Garden ornament. Early-mid C19 for 3rd Lord Ongley. White marble tablet, carved to imitate open book, set into grey marble base. Sited close to a thatched tree shelter. Tablet is inscribed with a poem, thought to be by Lord Ongley:

The Forgotten One

Thou art forgotten; thou whose feet Our early friends, those of our youth! Were listened for like song, We cannot feel again They used to call thy voice so sweet; The earnest love, the simple truth It did not haunt them long. Which made us such friends then. Thou with thy fond and fairy mirth, We grow suspicious, careless, cold; How could they bear their lonely We love not as we loved of old. hearth?

There is no picture to recall Our love was of that happy time, Thy c(..?..) and open brow, And now that it is past, No profiled outline on the wall It breathes as of some finer clime Seems like this shadow now. Than where my lot is cast. They have not even kept to wear My eyes still fill with sweetest tears A ringlet of thy golden hair. In thinking of those early years.

A shower in June, a summer shower, It shock'd me first to see the sun, Drove us beneath the shade; Shine gladly o'er thy tomb, A beautiful and greenwood bower To see the wild flowers o'er it run, The spreading branches made; In such luxuriant bloom. The rain drop shines upon the bough, Now I feel glad they should keep The passing rain - but where art thou? A bright sweet watch above thy sleep.

But I forget how many showers The heaven which of thy nature came Have washed this old oak tree, Only recalled its own; The winter and the summer hours It is here that now breathes thy name Since I stood there with thee: Though borrowing memories none. and forget how chance a thought I feel this earth could never be Thy memory to my heart has brought. The native home of one like thee.

I talk of friends who once have wept Farewell! The early dews that fall As if they still should weep; Upon thy grass grown bed, I speak of grief that long has spent Are like the thoughts that now recall As if it could not sleep; Thine image from the dead. I mourn o'er cold forgetfulness A blessing hallows thy dark cell, Have (..?..) forgotten less. I will not stay to weep. Farewell!

Ah! It is well we can forget, Or who could linger on, Beneath a sky whose stars are set On earth whose flowers are gone. For who could welcome loved ones near, Thinking of those once far more dear.

Listing NGR: TL1488444638