 | Poems, on various subjects |  |
161
ON THE REMEMBRANCE OF A MOTHER.
Still wilt thou hang upon my joyless soul
That clasps thy dear impression;—who shall prove
Thou art not borne beyond the gloomy grave,
When thou art ever living to my mind?
Ah, yet be with me, kind instructive shade,
And sooth the mis'ries of successive hours;
Rove with me through the vale; paint the sad scene
When dreary Winter sits upon the world.
Chilling creative pow'r, such cruel Time
That robb'd me of a mother. Painful thought!
With what reluctance did my soul discern
Thy faculties decline; thine eye, thine ear,
Thy long-try'd mem'ry, sentimental pow'rs,
All sunk in calm gradation, while the sigh
Stole in soft silence from my youthful heart.
Mine was th'improving melancholy task,
To guide with pensive care thy feeble foot
Down life's descent, tho' I with horror saw
The grave that op'd beneath. Ye giddy minds,
Who place the essence of fallacious joy
In gaudy pomp, to you it is deny'd
To feel with pining Age, or sooth the pangs
Which Mem'ry leaves behind of jocund Youth.
That clasps thy dear impression;—who shall prove
Thou art not borne beyond the gloomy grave,
When thou art ever living to my mind?
Ah, yet be with me, kind instructive shade,
And sooth the mis'ries of successive hours;
Rove with me through the vale; paint the sad scene
When dreary Winter sits upon the world.
Chilling creative pow'r, such cruel Time
162
With what reluctance did my soul discern
Thy faculties decline; thine eye, thine ear,
Thy long-try'd mem'ry, sentimental pow'rs,
All sunk in calm gradation, while the sigh
Stole in soft silence from my youthful heart.
Mine was th'improving melancholy task,
To guide with pensive care thy feeble foot
Down life's descent, tho' I with horror saw
The grave that op'd beneath. Ye giddy minds,
Who place the essence of fallacious joy
In gaudy pomp, to you it is deny'd
To feel with pining Age, or sooth the pangs
Which Mem'ry leaves behind of jocund Youth.
163
Why pass ye by the venerable head,
Grown white with age and sorrow? Why despise,
In flippant mirth, the period ye must find,
With all its cold companions? Hard the heart
Who smiles at hoary weakness; base the soul
Who scornful throws at dear declining Age
Her weak petitions. Think, my youthful friends,
That Time, to purity attunes the thought,
Robs the warm breast of passion, points the soul
To her last refuge, bids her hate the day
When Pleasure met her on the silken wing,
That droops beneath Remembrance. Oh, beware,
Impetuous youth, and taste the draught of joy,
With Meditation sitting on the cup.
Yet will I hold thee, kind lamented shade,
That whisper'st o'er the grave: there didst thou sink,
And there I'll follow thee; but while I tread,
In pensive mood, the tedious round of life,
Let Fancy bring thee to my humble hearth.
There, hear unseen, my blooming boys repeat
Thy name half-broken, with unconscious sighs,
While thy firm precepts vibrate in their ear.
Transporting Thought, preserve the pleasing view!
Tho' Reason flies the scene for colder shades
Of rigid demonstration, which, more rough
Than frowning Alps, o'er-shadows warmer joy.
Grown white with age and sorrow? Why despise,
In flippant mirth, the period ye must find,
With all its cold companions? Hard the heart
Who smiles at hoary weakness; base the soul
Who scornful throws at dear declining Age
Her weak petitions. Think, my youthful friends,
That Time, to purity attunes the thought,
Robs the warm breast of passion, points the soul
To her last refuge, bids her hate the day
When Pleasure met her on the silken wing,
That droops beneath Remembrance. Oh, beware,
Impetuous youth, and taste the draught of joy,
With Meditation sitting on the cup.
Yet will I hold thee, kind lamented shade,
That whisper'st o'er the grave: there didst thou sink,
164
In pensive mood, the tedious round of life,
Let Fancy bring thee to my humble hearth.
There, hear unseen, my blooming boys repeat
Thy name half-broken, with unconscious sighs,
While thy firm precepts vibrate in their ear.
Transporting Thought, preserve the pleasing view!
Tho' Reason flies the scene for colder shades
Of rigid demonstration, which, more rough
Than frowning Alps, o'er-shadows warmer joy.
How oft, with thee, when life's keen tempest howl'd
Around our heads, did I contented sit,
Drinking the wiser accents of thy tongue,
Listless of threat'ning ill! My tender eye
Was fix'd on thine, inquisitively sad,
Whilst thine was dim with sorrow; yet thy soul
Betray'd no innate weakness, but resolv'd
To tread thy sojourn calm and undismay'd:
Thy fortitude threw on my weaker cheek
Confusion's tinge; even now I faintly feel,
Thus wanting thee, wrapt in whose soft'ring wing,
I found a shelter from inclement skies.
Around our heads, did I contented sit,
Drinking the wiser accents of thy tongue,
Listless of threat'ning ill! My tender eye
Was fix'd on thine, inquisitively sad,
165
Betray'd no innate weakness, but resolv'd
To tread thy sojourn calm and undismay'd:
Thy fortitude threw on my weaker cheek
Confusion's tinge; even now I faintly feel,
Thus wanting thee, wrapt in whose soft'ring wing,
I found a shelter from inclement skies.
Now who shall shield me, who direct the storm,
When mental conflicts rend my suff'ring soul,
Hurling her far from ever-gentle Peace!
When mental conflicts rend my suff'ring soul,
Hurling her far from ever-gentle Peace!
Ah, unavailing question! Fancy paints
A Mother's frown on her denying brow,
That bids me rest on virtues all my own.
A Mother's frown on her denying brow,
That bids me rest on virtues all my own.
| Poems, on various subjects | |