 | Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous |  |
242
To an amiable Friend,
Mourning the Death of an excellent Father.
Let deep dejection hide her pallid face,
And from thy breast each painful image rase;
Forbid thy lip to utter one complaint,
But view the glories of the rising saint,
Ripe for a crown, and waiting the reward
Of watching long the vineyard of his Lord.
And from thy breast each painful image rase;
Forbid thy lip to utter one complaint,
But view the glories of the rising saint,
Ripe for a crown, and waiting the reward
Of watching long the vineyard of his Lord.
The generous purpose of his zealous heart,
Truth to enforce, and knowledge to impart,
Insures his welcome on the unknown shore
Where choirs of saints, and angel forms adore:
A seraph met him on the trackless way,
And strung his harp to join the heavenly lay.
Truth to enforce, and knowledge to impart,
Insures his welcome on the unknown shore
Where choirs of saints, and angel forms adore:
A seraph met him on the trackless way,
And strung his harp to join the heavenly lay.
Complain no more of Death's extensive power,
Whose sceptre wafts us to some blissful shore,
Where the rough billows that roll o'er the head,
That shake the frame, and fill the mind with dread,
Are hush'd in silence, and the soul serene
Looks back delighted on the closing scene.
Whose sceptre wafts us to some blissful shore,
Where the rough billows that roll o'er the head,
That shake the frame, and fill the mind with dread,
Are hush'd in silence, and the soul serene
Looks back delighted on the closing scene.
Happy, thrice happy, that exalted mind,
Who, leaving earth and all its cares behind,
Has not a wish to ruffle or control
The equal temper of his tranquil soul—
Who, on a retrospect, is safe within,
No private passion, nor a darling sin,
Can check his hope, when death's insatiate power
Stands hovering on the last decisive hour.
Who, leaving earth and all its cares behind,
Has not a wish to ruffle or control
The equal temper of his tranquil soul—
Who, on a retrospect, is safe within,
No private passion, nor a darling sin,
Can check his hope, when death's insatiate power
Stands hovering on the last decisive hour.
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This dreaded tyrant throws his forky wand,
And mows down millions with resistless hand;
From his research no sceptred prince can hide,
Though deck'd in all the luxury of pride.
And mows down millions with resistless hand;
From his research no sceptred prince can hide,
Though deck'd in all the luxury of pride.
Not all the splendor of a Saladin,
Not those who worship at Belona's shrine,
Not Cæsar's triumphs, or a Pompey's fame,
Nor all the heroes of Rome's boasted name,
Could once evade, though e'er so wise or great,
The dreaded sentence of resistless fate,
Which strips the laurel from the good and brave,
And ranks the monarch with the meanest slave.
Not those who worship at Belona's shrine,
Not Cæsar's triumphs, or a Pompey's fame,
Nor all the heroes of Rome's boasted name,
Could once evade, though e'er so wise or great,
The dreaded sentence of resistless fate,
Which strips the laurel from the good and brave,
And ranks the monarch with the meanest slave.
Cohorts of old, and slaves of modern Rome,
Promiscuously meet one common doom,
And drop as leaves in the autumnal blast,
While adamantine pens record the past;
And every action stands disclos'd on high,
Inscrib'd on columns fix'd beyond the sky;
Each virtuous deed, and every base pursuit,
That dignifies the man, or marks the brute.
Promiscuously meet one common doom,
And drop as leaves in the autumnal blast,
While adamantine pens record the past;
And every action stands disclos'd on high,
Inscrib'd on columns fix'd beyond the sky;
Each virtuous deed, and every base pursuit,
That dignifies the man, or marks the brute.
Not seas of tears disarm the grizzly king,
And virtue only antidotes his sting;
The eastern monarch, or the Grecian sage,
May bid defiance to death's wanton rage,
If inward peace insures the glorious prize,
That crowns the victor at the grand assize;
When pearls, nor gold, nor India's wealth obtains
Applause from him who o'er creation reigns.
And virtue only antidotes his sting;
The eastern monarch, or the Grecian sage,
May bid defiance to death's wanton rage,
If inward peace insures the glorious prize,
That crowns the victor at the grand assize;
When pearls, nor gold, nor India's wealth obtains
Applause from him who o'er creation reigns.
Then weep no more, my friend, but all resign'd,
Submit thy will to the eternal mind,
Who watches o'er the movements of the just,
And will again reanimate the dust.
Thy sire commands—suppress the rising sigh—
He wipes the tear from thy too filial eye,
And bids thee contemplate a soul set free,
Just safe escap'd from life's tempestuous sea.
Submit thy will to the eternal mind,
244
And will again reanimate the dust.
Thy sire commands—suppress the rising sigh—
He wipes the tear from thy too filial eye,
And bids thee contemplate a soul set free,
Just safe escap'd from life's tempestuous sea.
Could my weak numbers, or my plaintive strain,
Or softest sympathy, relieve thy pain,
My willing heart its ready aid should lend
To sooth the sorrows of my weeping friend.
Or softest sympathy, relieve thy pain,
My willing heart its ready aid should lend
To sooth the sorrows of my weeping friend.
Let gratitude—(best feeling of the heart)
Whose raptur'd smiles the highest joys impart,
Inspire thy soul, and look abroad serene,
Survey all nature with a placid mein.
Whose raptur'd smiles the highest joys impart,
Inspire thy soul, and look abroad serene,
Survey all nature with a placid mein.
See early spring its swelling leaf expand,
Or ripening harvests court the reaper's hand;
Autumnal clusters pour their juices forth,
Or frowning winter blacken all the north;
Still let content and gratitude appear,
Through all the changes of the varying year;
Let not a wayward thought thy peace molest,
Or the least murmur e'er escape thy breast:
Look round, behold the brighten'd landscape gay,
The wavy poplars fan the verdant May,
The oaken tops are with the elm combin'd,
To weave a covert for the weary mind.
Or ripening harvests court the reaper's hand;
Autumnal clusters pour their juices forth,
Or frowning winter blacken all the north;
Still let content and gratitude appear,
Through all the changes of the varying year;
Let not a wayward thought thy peace molest,
Or the least murmur e'er escape thy breast:
Look round, behold the brighten'd landscape gay,
The wavy poplars fan the verdant May,
The oaken tops are with the elm combin'd,
To weave a covert for the weary mind.
On every side the vary'd sweets appear,
And speak the power that marks the rolling year;
Pleas'd with the grot, extinguish'd every care,
Expand thy heart, and breathe a grateful prayer,
That when time's rapid car its course has run
A few more circuits round the central sun,
Thy friends and mine from death's umbrageous womb,
May burst the mansions of the darksome tomb,
With us unite in friendships more sublime,
And smile on all the ductile scenes of time.
And speak the power that marks the rolling year;
Pleas'd with the grot, extinguish'd every care,
Expand thy heart, and breathe a grateful prayer,
245
A few more circuits round the central sun,
Thy friends and mine from death's umbrageous womb,
May burst the mansions of the darksome tomb,
With us unite in friendships more sublime,
And smile on all the ductile scenes of time.
Faith, reach thy hand, and lead us o'er the deep,
While smiling Hope forbids we here should weep.
While smiling Hope forbids we here should weep.
| Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous | |