 | [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet |  |
TO THE MEMORY OF CHATTERTON
Youth of the high and gifted lyre!
Thy feeling heart and minstrel fire,
Too keenly felt, too warmly glowed
For life's uneven, cheerless road;
Where storms could blight and frosts could chill
The dawning hope and burning thrill.
Thy feeling heart and minstrel fire,
Too keenly felt, too warmly glowed
For life's uneven, cheerless road;
Where storms could blight and frosts could chill
The dawning hope and burning thrill.
Too soon the beams of fancy shed
Their wizard radiance on thy head;
Too soon they led thy gaze along
The wild and tempting path of song;
And kindled in thy heart a fire
That glimmered for its funeral pyre!
Their wizard radiance on thy head;
Too soon they led thy gaze along
The wild and tempting path of song;
And kindled in thy heart a fire
That glimmered for its funeral pyre!
Too soon the rousing dream of fame
Upon thy youthful slumbers came;
Too soon the rainbow gleams that fly
Disordered round the poet's eye
Led forth thy young unpractised foot
To urge for them the vain pursuit.
Upon thy youthful slumbers came;
Too soon the rainbow gleams that fly
Disordered round the poet's eye
Led forth thy young unpractised foot
To urge for them the vain pursuit.
And ill a heart like thine could bear
To see those hopes which promised fair,
With all their glittering train decay—
The frost work of a fleeting day,
And storm and darkness settle o'er
The path they made so bright before.
To see those hopes which promised fair,
With all their glittering train decay—
The frost work of a fleeting day,
And storm and darkness settle o'er
The path they made so bright before.
And oh! when fortune's stormy surge
Had borne thee to destruction's verge,
When wishing death and reckless how
The conquerer dealt his final blow,
Too lost to hope, too blind to fear,
Thy hand itself assumed his spear!
Had borne thee to destruction's verge,
When wishing death and reckless how
The conquerer dealt his final blow,
Too lost to hope, too blind to fear,
Thy hand itself assumed his spear!
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Did then no kindred spirit thrill
To soothe thy heart and share its ill?
Passed there no sympathethic glow
Upon the shadow of thy woe?
And did not friendship seek to bear
Thy sinking mind above despair?
To soothe thy heart and share its ill?
Passed there no sympathethic glow
Upon the shadow of thy woe?
And did not friendship seek to bear
Thy sinking mind above despair?
Alas for thee! it was not so—
Unshared, unpitied came thy woe:
The finer feelings thou couldst boast
Were in the storms of fortune lost;
And clouds whose tones were lent by Heaven
Too soon, by misery swept, were riven.
Unshared, unpitied came thy woe:
The finer feelings thou couldst boast
Were in the storms of fortune lost;
And clouds whose tones were lent by Heaven
Too soon, by misery swept, were riven.
The cold and heartless bigot may
Thy closing scene in gloom array,
Thy name to hate and scorn consign,
But who shall say what guilt was thine?
The misery of thy life to scan
And judge thy crime is not for man.
Thy closing scene in gloom array,
Thy name to hate and scorn consign,
But who shall say what guilt was thine?
The misery of thy life to scan
And judge thy crime is not for man.
Farewell! around thy grassy pall
The tears of kindred hearts shall fall;
The bard shall o'er thy tomb recline
And feel his spirits blend with thine,
And beauty's eye shall shed for thee
Its tear of holy sympathy.
The tears of kindred hearts shall fall;
The bard shall o'er thy tomb recline
And feel his spirits blend with thine,
And beauty's eye shall shed for thee
Its tear of holy sympathy.
Boston Statesman, January 19, 1828
| [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet | |