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INSCRIPTIONS.

I.

Amid the moss'd old forest's loneliness,
To warn the future poet, and to wake
The tender thought, these lines a studious youth
Carved on this tree. Haply some man of mind,
Hereafter, may the rhymeless verses read,
And drop amid the druid solitude
The tear that angels envy. Chatterton
Lived but to die—perchance without a prayer!
A sable angel, tearing her own heart
With dreadful transport, lured him to her arms!
These wilds will see no more his hopeless smile;
No more the moon-beam in his dewy eye
Will glisten; and no more the cloudless night

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Hear, from her starry throne, his lonely steps!
O God! forgive him, though he ask'd thee not!

II.

Stop, man, and read! A nameless person—one
Whom the gay sons of proud frivolity
Knew not, and therefore scorn'd not—slumbers here;
His life was one long day of misery;
Yet sank he not beneath the load of life.
His tested soul, with holy quietness,
Smiled at the malice of adversity,
And rose on wings of humble faith to God.
Reader, do thou resemble this poor man
In all things but his fortunes. Go and speed!

III.

Now nought is mine! Yet, what I had, I have!
The wings that bore my soul from earth to heaven!
And still, untired, through fields of amplitude,
The pinions of my fervour shall advance
With growing swiftness; for beneath his throne—
Whom seeking, my soul soars unsatisfied—
Time lowly bends, and Power, the giant, kneels,
While Harmony proclaims her Father's name.