 | Poems |  |
And, Morgan, in this breast too he shall lie:
And song shall tell his worth:—nor shall that song
Seem mean, except there be who thought him mean.
Verse hath its gaieties: nor think it vain,
If sometimes, to give life to languid hours,
Or a new zest to pleasure, it may choose
To sing of loves, and mirths, and sports, and smiles.
For verse is often made by skilful hands
The heart's restorative, and often tips
Love with gay wings, and makes him fly at large
Free as the air, and oft on vagrant hearts
Slips the light chain of matrimonial bonds.
Verse hath, too, nobler services; to sound
The triumphs fair of Freedom, to record
The patriot virtues, honour, justice, truth,
Benevolence; nor is less fond to strew,
When worth departs, the flow'ret on its grave,
Blooming, tho' humble, speaking to the world,
“That virtue should not die:” such, Morgan, take
A friend's poor tribute to thy brother's name.
And song shall tell his worth:—nor shall that song
Seem mean, except there be who thought him mean.
Verse hath its gaieties: nor think it vain,
If sometimes, to give life to languid hours,
Or a new zest to pleasure, it may choose
101
For verse is often made by skilful hands
The heart's restorative, and often tips
Love with gay wings, and makes him fly at large
Free as the air, and oft on vagrant hearts
Slips the light chain of matrimonial bonds.
Verse hath, too, nobler services; to sound
The triumphs fair of Freedom, to record
The patriot virtues, honour, justice, truth,
Benevolence; nor is less fond to strew,
When worth departs, the flow'ret on its grave,
Blooming, tho' humble, speaking to the world,
“That virtue should not die:” such, Morgan, take
A friend's poor tribute to thy brother's name.
| Poems | |