 | The poetical works of John Trumbull . |  |
187
AN ELEGY, ON THE DEATH OF MR. BUCKINGHAM ST. JOHN.
May 1771.
The world now yields to night's returning sway,
The deeper gloom leads on the solemn hour,
And calls my steps, beneath the moon's pale ray,
To roam in sadness on the sea-beat shore.
The deeper gloom leads on the solemn hour,
And calls my steps, beneath the moon's pale ray,
To roam in sadness on the sea-beat shore.
Now glide th' inconstant shadows o'er the plain,
The broad moon swimming through the broken clouds;
The gleam of waters brightens on the main,
And anchor'd navies lift their wavering shrouds.
The broad moon swimming through the broken clouds;
The gleam of waters brightens on the main,
And anchor'd navies lift their wavering shrouds.
188
Deep silence reigns, save on the moory ground
The long reed rustling to the passing gales,
The noise of dashing waves and hollow sound
Of rushing winds, that murmur through the sails.
The long reed rustling to the passing gales,
The noise of dashing waves and hollow sound
Of rushing winds, that murmur through the sails.
Far hence, ye pleasures of a mind at ease,
The smiling charm that rural scenes can yield,
When spring, led jocund by the soft'ning breeze,
Wakes the glad morn and robes the dewy field!
The smiling charm that rural scenes can yield,
When spring, led jocund by the soft'ning breeze,
Wakes the glad morn and robes the dewy field!
Far be the giddy raptures of the gay,
The midnight joys licentious youth can share,
While Ruin, smiling o'er her destined prey,
In sweet allurements hides the deadly snare.
The midnight joys licentious youth can share,
While Ruin, smiling o'er her destined prey,
In sweet allurements hides the deadly snare.
Mine be the music of the rolling wave,
These moon-light shadows and surrounding gloom;
Mine the lone haunts of contemplation grave,
That lift the soul to scenes beyond the tomb.
These moon-light shadows and surrounding gloom;
Mine the lone haunts of contemplation grave,
That lift the soul to scenes beyond the tomb.
For here, while midnight holds her silent reign,
Creative fancy calls her airy throng,
Soft melancholy wakes the soothing strain,
And friendship prompts and grief inspires the song.
Creative fancy calls her airy throng,
Soft melancholy wakes the soothing strain,
And friendship prompts and grief inspires the song.
As through these mournful glooms I stretch my sight,
Mid sounds of death, that bid the soul attend,
Mid empty forms and fleeting shapes of night,
Slowly I view a white-robed shade ascend,
Mid sounds of death, that bid the soul attend,
Mid empty forms and fleeting shapes of night,
Slowly I view a white-robed shade ascend,
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That says, “I once was St. John!
from the bounds
Of deeps unknown beneath the dreary wave,
Where ever-restless floods, in nightly rounds,
Roll their dark surges o'er my wat'ry grave;
Of deeps unknown beneath the dreary wave,
Where ever-restless floods, in nightly rounds,
Roll their dark surges o'er my wat'ry grave;
“From realms which, ne'er to mortal sight display'd,
The gates of dread eternity surround,
In night conceal'd and death's impervious shade,
My voice returns—attend the warning sound.
The gates of dread eternity surround,
In night conceal'd and death's impervious shade,
My voice returns—attend the warning sound.
“O thou attend, who flush'd with early bloom,
In life's new spring and vernal sweetness gay,
Mindless of fate, that must thy branch entomb,
Spread'st thy green blossoms to the morning ray!
In life's new spring and vernal sweetness gay,
Mindless of fate, that must thy branch entomb,
Spread'st thy green blossoms to the morning ray!
“With thee how late, how like, alas! to thee,
To mortal joys, by opening youth beguiled,
I stretch'd my airy wish, and follow'd free,
Where pleasure triumph'd and where fancy smiled.
To mortal joys, by opening youth beguiled,
I stretch'd my airy wish, and follow'd free,
Where pleasure triumph'd and where fancy smiled.
190
“Then while fond hope her glitt'ring pinions spread,
Pointing to climes beyond th' Atlantic wave,
E'en then unnoticed o'er my destined head,
Hung death's dire form and seal'd me for the grave.
Pointing to climes beyond th' Atlantic wave,
E'en then unnoticed o'er my destined head,
Hung death's dire form and seal'd me for the grave.
“How vain the thought, for many a joyous morn
To taste of rapture, unallay'd by woe;
At once from life and every pleasure torn,
From all I wish'd and all I loved below!
To taste of rapture, unallay'd by woe;
At once from life and every pleasure torn,
From all I wish'd and all I loved below!
“The faithless morning on our opening sails
Smiled out serene and smooth'd our gliding way,
While the gay vessel, fann'd by breathing gales,
Play'd on the placid bosom of the sea.
Smiled out serene and smooth'd our gliding way,
While the gay vessel, fann'd by breathing gales,
Play'd on the placid bosom of the sea.
“When lo, descending on the darkening wind,
Burst the dire storm—and feeble to sustain
“The rushing blasts in warring fury join'd,
The frail skiff sinks beneath the surging main.
Burst the dire storm—and feeble to sustain
“The rushing blasts in warring fury join'd,
The frail skiff sinks beneath the surging main.
“And see, afar the oarless boat conveys
The rescued sailors to the distant shore;
Alone, of aid bereft, with one last gaze,
I sunk in deeps, and sunk to rise no more.
The rescued sailors to the distant shore;
Alone, of aid bereft, with one last gaze,
I sunk in deeps, and sunk to rise no more.
“In that sad hour what fearful scenes arise,
What pangs distress, what unknown fears dismay,
When future worlds disclosing on our eyes,
The trembling soul forsakes her kindred clay!
What pangs distress, what unknown fears dismay,
When future worlds disclosing on our eyes,
The trembling soul forsakes her kindred clay!
191
“Before the awful bar, th' almighty throne,
In dread I've stood th' Eternal Judge to see;
And fix'd in bliss, or doom'd to ceaseless moan,
Have heard the long, the unreversed decree:
In dread I've stood th' Eternal Judge to see;
And fix'd in bliss, or doom'd to ceaseless moan,
Have heard the long, the unreversed decree:
“Nor earth must know the rest.”—Where art thou now,
In youthful joys my partner and my friend?
Of those blest hours thy fortune gave below,
Of all our hopes, is this the fatal end?
In youthful joys my partner and my friend?
Of those blest hours thy fortune gave below,
Of all our hopes, is this the fatal end?
Ah, what avail'd that energy of mind,
The heights of science and of arts t' explore,
That early led, where genius unconfined
Spreads her glad feast and opes her classic store!
The heights of science and of arts t' explore,
That early led, where genius unconfined
Spreads her glad feast and opes her classic store!
Ah what avail'd, in earthly bliss so frail,
The fame gay-dawning on thy rising years!
Ah what avail'd,—for what could then avail?
Thy friend's deep sorrows or thy country's tears!
The fame gay-dawning on thy rising years!
Ah what avail'd,—for what could then avail?
Thy friend's deep sorrows or thy country's tears!
In pleasure's paths by vivid fancy led,
Mid every hope, that blooming worth could raise,
The wings of death, with fatal horror spread,
Blank'd the bright promise of thy future days.
Mid every hope, that blooming worth could raise,
The wings of death, with fatal horror spread,
Blank'd the bright promise of thy future days.
So from the louring west the sable clouds
Rush on the sun and dim his orient ray,
And hateful night, in glooms untimely, shrouds
Th' ascending glories of the vernal day.
Rush on the sun and dim his orient ray,
And hateful night, in glooms untimely, shrouds
Th' ascending glories of the vernal day.
192
Adieu, my friend, so dear in vain, adieu,
Till some short days their fleeting courses roll;
Soon shall our steps thine earlier fate pursue,
Moved in the race and crowding to the goal.
Till some short days their fleeting courses roll;
Soon shall our steps thine earlier fate pursue,
Moved in the race and crowding to the goal.
Th' approaching hour shall see the sun no more
Wheel his long course or spread his golden ray;
Soon the vain dream of mortal life be o'er;
The brightness dawning of celestial day.
Wheel his long course or spread his golden ray;
Soon the vain dream of mortal life be o'er;
The brightness dawning of celestial day.
Then join'd in bliss, as once in friendship join'd,
May pitying heaven our purer spirits raise,
Each crime atoned, each virtue well refined,
To pass a blest eternity of praise.
May pitying heaven our purer spirits raise,
Each crime atoned, each virtue well refined,
To pass a blest eternity of praise.
Mr. St. John was one of the author's earliest and most intimate friends. For two years they had lodgings in the same chambers, during their residence, as graduates, at Yale-College. He was drowned in his passage from New-Haven to Norwalk, May 5th 1771. At the time of his death, he was one of the Tutors in that University.
The surname, St. John, was always pronounced by that family, both here and in England, not as two words, but as one, with the accent on the first syllable. The name of Lord Bolingbroke was Henry St. John. Pope thus addresses him,
“Awake my St. John! leave all meaner things”—Essay on Man. —“If but a wreath of mine,
Oh all-accomplished St. John! deck thy shrine.”
Epilogue to the Satires.
| The poetical works of John Trumbull . | |