The bard of the dales :: :: University of Virginia Library

The fatal news, tho' quick, too late arrived,
To mend the matter, or to heal the wound;
Life's lamp was out, the fatal deed was done,
The Spirit then had gained its destin'd place!
So situated, whether high or deep,
Beyond the reach of mortals to control,—
Made wise to know the secrets immortal—
Had left its shattered shell to cool and stiffen.
The tempest rose to an uncommon height,
And furious winds, and constant, nightly howled,
As tho' they knew—and wishful to make known
Unto the slumbering neighbourhood—his fate
Whose clay-cold limbs lay travers'd with the moon.
Oh Fate! sad Fate! hadst thou but only left
One inch of life, to give us satisfaction;
Just to inform his friends, and check reports;—
But this request, though small, was not allowed.
O say, ye powers! for ye alone can tell,
Who on that solemn scene did wait attendant?
O say, what was the cause—accounts so vary,—
What was the cause of his untimely exit?
Alas! the answer must be hid from mortals.—
Oh, was it accidental, or deliberate?
Was it some careless step, or mental agony?
To see his blasted hopes,—strange hopes indeed

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Which tempted him to leave old Danby dale,
To wander amidst the solitary field—
To mark the barren soil, and stain with blood
The worthless bank, unworthy of his feet;
From whose bright eye meek friendship beam'd,
And from whose lips dropped cheerful salutation
Whene'er he met a friend or an acquaintance!
Which while they do, and may lament their loss,
It throws a mantled fragrance round his memory.
Oh! didst thou start at that dense cloud,
Which o'er thy habitation seem'd to linger;—
Perhaps the next, when that was blown away,
Hadst thou but waited, might have brought deliverance!
But thou art gone, shadow and substance,
To know the secrets of the distant worlds.
O if thou hadst but faith in thy Redeemer—but why?
If so—nay I must say no more—'tis done;
And thou hast bid this vale of tears adieu,
And left thy friends to weep—let foes conjecture!