A poem on divine revelation being an exercise delivered At the Public Commencement at Nassau-Hall, September 28. 1774 |
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 | A poem on divine revelation |  |
Thus have I sung to this high-favour'd bow'r,
And sacred shades which taught me first to sing,
With grateful mind a tributary strain.
Sweet grove no more I visit you, no more
Beneath your shades shall meditate my lay.
Adieu ye lawns and thou fair hill adieu,
And you O shepherds, and ye graces fair
With comely presence honouring the day,
Far hence I go to some sequest'red vale
By woody hill or shady mountain side,
Where far from converse and the social band,
My days shall pass inglorious away:
But this shall be my exultation still
My chiefest merit and my only joy,
That when the hunter on some western hill,
Or furzy glade shall see my grassy tomb,
And know the stream which mourns unheeded by,
He for a moment shall repress his step,
And say, There lies a Son of Nassau-Hall.
And sacred shades which taught me first to sing,
With grateful mind a tributary strain.
Sweet grove no more I visit you, no more
Beneath your shades shall meditate my lay.
Adieu ye lawns and thou fair hill adieu,
And you O shepherds, and ye graces fair
With comely presence honouring the day,
Far hence I go to some sequest'red vale
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Where far from converse and the social band,
My days shall pass inglorious away:
But this shall be my exultation still
My chiefest merit and my only joy,
That when the hunter on some western hill,
Or furzy glade shall see my grassy tomb,
And know the stream which mourns unheeded by,
He for a moment shall repress his step,
And say, There lies a Son of Nassau-Hall.
In these lines the author has not the least reference to the place of his present residence but to some western part of America, where in the course of his life he may possibly be thrown. Should he ever remove from his present situation, it shall be with equal melancholy and regret, and if the Muse can produce a strain it shall be remembered in song. For though it may seem a vain boast after the preceding poem which is really very moderate, to talk of giving memory to fountain, landscape, or grove, yet it is very certain that love will raise the mind to language and sentiment, to which cold weak geneus of itself, could never attain.
| A poem on divine revelation | |