 | Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous |  |
240
LINES,
Written on the anniversary of the death of Mr. C--- W---, an amiable and accomplished young gentleman, who died in St. Lucar, 1785. His resignation, fortitude, and piety, witnessed the excellence of that religion which supported him with dignity and calmness, and through many months of languid illness, reason justified to him the hope of the Christian.
Oh! lend a moment to a parent's grief,
As wounded nature asks this kind relief!—
As wounded nature asks this kind relief!—
Long have I trod o'er life's most brilliant stage,
Read its deceptive, visionary page,
Its richest hope in rapture lifted high,
I now survey with retrospective eye.
Read its deceptive, visionary page,
Its richest hope in rapture lifted high,
I now survey with retrospective eye.
Its brightest boon, oft my transported heart
In fancy hug'd—but time's insidious dart
Check'd each fond wish—relentless swept away
As tender foliage in a frosty day,
Youth, vigour, friendship; and the ripening bloom
Of early genius, shrouds in C---s's tomb.
In fancy hug'd—but time's insidious dart
Check'd each fond wish—relentless swept away
As tender foliage in a frosty day,
Youth, vigour, friendship; and the ripening bloom
Of early genius, shrouds in C---s's tomb.
A youth just form'd, as if by heav'n design'd
To shew the virtues in a youthful mind;
His manners gentle, and his heart sincere,
Mild his deportment—but to vice severe;
He aim'd alone at life's sublimest end,
Rose to the saint, and soften'd to the friend.
With manly grace, and piety serene,
Met the last foe with an unclouded mein.
To shew the virtues in a youthful mind;
His manners gentle, and his heart sincere,
Mild his deportment—but to vice severe;
He aim'd alone at life's sublimest end,
Rose to the saint, and soften'd to the friend.
With manly grace, and piety serene,
Met the last foe with an unclouded mein.
A burning hectic's secret fire betray'd,
'Till yielding nature bow'd his languid head;
When strangers' tears were sprinkled o'er his grave,
From which no tears, nor virtue's self could save.
Kind foreign hands have dress'd his sacred urn,
While weeping friends in distant climates mourn;
No brother's soot the solemn dirge attends,
Yet innate worth commanded many friends;
The father mourns with many a heartfelt sigh,
While to the grave bends the maternal eye;
Her busy mind, too curious, would inquire,
Why was he lent—or why so soon expire?
'Till yielding nature bow'd his languid head;
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From which no tears, nor virtue's self could save.
Kind foreign hands have dress'd his sacred urn,
While weeping friends in distant climates mourn;
No brother's soot the solemn dirge attends,
Yet innate worth commanded many friends;
The father mourns with many a heartfelt sigh,
While to the grave bends the maternal eye;
Her busy mind, too curious, would inquire,
Why was he lent—or why so soon expire?
Is it from life's best joys my heart to wean?
Or are severer pangs behind the scene?—
Let me not ask—but humbly bow my will,
And own my God, the God of mercy still;
Adore and tremble at Jehovah's name,
Whose hand, omnific, still supports my frame;
Obey each precept of his laws divine,
Nor at the darkest providence repine;
Though strip'd of all earth calls its choicest store,
Yet if upheld by all supporting power,
I'll calmly walk on to life's utmost verge,
And, undismay'd, approach the boundless marge,
Of that broad space where mighty systems roll,
And radiant glories strike the wondering soul.
Or are severer pangs behind the scene?—
Let me not ask—but humbly bow my will,
And own my God, the God of mercy still;
Adore and tremble at Jehovah's name,
Whose hand, omnific, still supports my frame;
Obey each precept of his laws divine,
Nor at the darkest providence repine;
Though strip'd of all earth calls its choicest store,
Yet if upheld by all supporting power,
I'll calmly walk on to life's utmost verge,
And, undismay'd, approach the boundless marge,
Of that broad space where mighty systems roll,
And radiant glories strike the wondering soul.
Then may the youth whose soul benign on earth,
Breath'd truth and sweetness from his early birth,
Descend a moment from the realms above,
Deputed thence a messenger of love,
To aid my faith, and catch the parting breath,
And waft my soul from the cold bed of death;
Lead the glad spirit through th' etherial sea,
And ope the gates to an eternal day.
Breath'd truth and sweetness from his early birth,
Descend a moment from the realms above,
Deputed thence a messenger of love,
To aid my faith, and catch the parting breath,
And waft my soul from the cold bed of death;
Lead the glad spirit through th' etherial sea,
And ope the gates to an eternal day.
| Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous | |