The Poetical Works of Percival Stockdale In two volumes |
 | I. |
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AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG OFFICER OF THE ARMY. |
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| II. |
 | The Poetical Works of Percival Stockdale |  |
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AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG OFFICER OF THE ARMY.
127
Born, with the virtues of maturer age,
To warm the poet's, or historian's page;
Born, life's best deeds, and best rewards to prove,
To merit friendship, and to merit love;
Born with that fire, by which, of old, was hurled
Britannia's thunder on a hostile world:
But all this worth, just opening into bloom,
Is closed, for ever, by the ruthless tomb.
To warm the poet's, or historian's page;
Born, life's best deeds, and best rewards to prove,
To merit friendship, and to merit love;
Born with that fire, by which, of old, was hurled
Britannia's thunder on a hostile world:
But all this worth, just opening into bloom,
Is closed, for ever, by the ruthless tomb.
Severely for my heart, too soon a shade,
Accept this tribute, from affection payed;
Well-pleased accept it; for the poet's verse,
More than funereal pomp adorns the herse;
Gives us, at once, improvement, and relief;
Refines our morals, while it soothes our grief;
While it commands our tears afresh to flow,
Indulging soft, and salutary woe.
Accept this tribute, from affection payed;
Well-pleased accept it; for the poet's verse,
More than funereal pomp adorns the herse;
128
Refines our morals, while it soothes our grief;
While it commands our tears afresh to flow,
Indulging soft, and salutary woe.
Forming the numbers to thy memory due,
The frowns of fortune unappalled I view;
For never could the wanton tyrant's reign
Extinguish, in my breast, the liberal strain;
Ne'er cool my ardour for a poet's name,
By her gay fops of fashionable fame;
Ne'er sink my heart beneath it's noblest ends;
To honour living, or departed friends.
The frowns of fortune unappalled I view;
For never could the wanton tyrant's reign
Extinguish, in my breast, the liberal strain;
Ne'er cool my ardour for a poet's name,
By her gay fops of fashionable fame;
Ne'er sink my heart beneath it's noblest ends;
To honour living, or departed friends.
And let not the severe, ye martial train,
Tell me my grief is weak, and flows in vain!
Oh! let the short-lived joys, and hopes of youth,
Impress you, ever, with important truth!
Since life is short, with virtue fill the span;
The habits of the youth decide the man.
The good from fate their deathless graces save,
And are mature, though minors, for the grave.
Tell me my grief is weak, and flows in vain!
Oh! let the short-lived joys, and hopes of youth,
Impress you, ever, with important truth!
Since life is short, with virtue fill the span;
The habits of the youth decide the man.
The good from fate their deathless graces save,
And are mature, though minors, for the grave.
And oft to pleasure's gay, luxuriant bower,
Contrast the dark, irrevocable hour;
Which, haply, gives you, long, the golden light,
Or adds it's gloom to the returning night.
For not alone, on Mars's purple field,
The sons of war their generous spirits yield;
Death still attends us, on whatever ground;
Lurks in our frame, and hovers all around:
Oft, even the light, elastic spring of life,
With life's duration is at fatal strife:
We draw our dissolution with our breath;
Our vital air impregnated with death;
And thus as surely by an atom fall,
As by the Culverin's destructive ball.
Contrast the dark, irrevocable hour;
129
Or adds it's gloom to the returning night.
For not alone, on Mars's purple field,
The sons of war their generous spirits yield;
Death still attends us, on whatever ground;
Lurks in our frame, and hovers all around:
Oft, even the light, elastic spring of life,
With life's duration is at fatal strife:
We draw our dissolution with our breath;
Our vital air impregnated with death;
And thus as surely by an atom fall,
As by the Culverin's destructive ball.
Ambitious of no mean effects, my muse
Extends to either world her moral views:
Then may these lays, enforcing human weal,
Firmly to act, and tenderly to feel;
To my friend's memory, to our species kind,
Still move the heart, and still impell the mind;
With sympathy producing virtue, read,
Preserve the living, and embalm the dead.
Extends to either world her moral views:
Then may these lays, enforcing human weal,
Firmly to act, and tenderly to feel;
To my friend's memory, to our species kind,
Still move the heart, and still impell the mind;
With sympathy producing virtue, read,
Preserve the living, and embalm the dead.
| The Poetical Works of Percival Stockdale | |