Poems, and a tragedy By William Julius Mickle |
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[“While o'er these lawns thine eye delighted strays] |
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 | Poems, and a tragedy |  |
xlvi
[“While o'er these lawns thine eye delighted strays]
“While o'er these lawns thine eye delighted strays,
Allow a pause to hear the tale of woe;
Here stood the parent Elm in elder days,
Here o'er its Lord slow wav'd the wither'd bough.
While pale and cold his famish'd cheek full low,
On the rude turf in death's last swooning lay.
Allow a pause to hear the tale of woe;
Here stood the parent Elm in elder days,
Here o'er its Lord slow wav'd the wither'd bough.
While pale and cold his famish'd cheek full low,
On the rude turf in death's last swooning lay.
E'en now methinks his anguish'd look I see,
As by the menials taunted from the door;
Fainting he wander'd—then beneath the tree
Sunk down—sweet heaven what pangs his bosom tore,
When o'er yon lordly dome, his own no more,
He roll'd his dying eyes.—Ah! what compare
To this the lessons taught of sages hoar?
By his mad revels, by the gilded snare,
By all thy hopes of joy, oh fortune's child beware!
As by the menials taunted from the door;
Fainting he wander'd—then beneath the tree
Sunk down—sweet heaven what pangs his bosom tore,
When o'er yon lordly dome, his own no more,
He roll'd his dying eyes.—Ah! what compare
To this the lessons taught of sages hoar?
By his mad revels, by the gilded snare,
By all thy hopes of joy, oh fortune's child beware!
W. J. M.”
| Poems, and a tragedy | |