Poems by the late Hon. William R. Spencer :: :: University of Virginia Library

In elder times, some lively sparks, 'tis said,
Have paid familiar visits to the dead;
By Pluto well receiv'd, politely all
Conjured him never to return their call;
Be he assur'd them, on some future day,
He would not, could not, fail to pass their way.
With various views they went: one anxious heir
Went with strong hopes to find his father there;
One sought another's wife—this history shews;
One sought his own—that's poetry, God knows!
But, now this friendly intercourse is o'er,
None, uninvited, drive to Pluto's door;
Though soon or late his grimness visits all,
None will his kind civility forestall;

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For, e'en when bidden in the warmest way,
All, if they can, put off th' appointed day;
E'en some, self-ask'd, when near his gates, recede,
And recollected pre-engagements plead.
Judge, then, what wonder seized the spectre state
When, with a light hand tapping at the gate,
The comic muse, a least expected guest,
At the dark realms of death for entrance prest.
Smiling she prest—that smile had still prevail'd,
If hero's sword, and poet's lyre, had fail'd.
Hearts more than death, inexorably hard,
E'en misers' hearts, by worse than demons barr'd,
Won by that angel smile, could ne'er refuse
Entrance and welcome to the comic muse.
Why all unlicensed, thus th' intruder came,
To beat in cypress groves for sprightly game?
Why tripped her light sock o'er the church-way sod,
Long by her buskin'd sister only trod?
Now to the grisly king she fearless sped,
And bound her mask upon his goblin head;
Now all those darts which mark his tyrant rule,
She turn'd to shafts of harmless ridicule:
This, all as yet in mystic silence seal'd,
Within yon abbey's vault shall be reveal'd.
Attend awhile, we need not patience crave,
Few are in haste to know the secrets of the Grave.

Telemachus.

Hercules.

Orpheus.