 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
223
ODE ON THE DEATH of the Author.
By a Lady.
I
Accept, O sacred Shade, this artless Verse,And kindly, O ye mourning Friends, forbear,
To dear disdaining from his decent Herse,
All I can give except the tender Tear:
He must not lie in his cold Grave, among
Poor shrieking Ghosts, unprais'd, unwept, unsung.
224
II
Ah! where was I when fiercely-frowning Death,With brandisht Dart stood at still Midnight nigh,
Why came I not to catch thy dying Breath,
And close with trembling Hand thy languid Eye?
And on my sad Breast lay thy drooping Head,
And bath with Tears thy Hand so cold and dead?
III
Thee do I view in yonder flying Cloud,Or do I hear thee in the hollow Wind,
Or dost thou still sleep in thy sable Shroud,
Where the dread Judgment-Trumpet Thee shall find:
O till that Day, ye pitying Angels come,
Shield with your Wings, and sing around his Tomb.
225
IV
But if advanc'd to Heav'n's empyreal Height,Above with glorious martyr'd Saints to live,
'Midst heav'nly Hymns, and Harps, and Visions bright,
And all the Joys a smiling God can give;
O be my watchful Guardian Angel still,
Save me from slavish Vice, from Folly, and from Ill.
J. W.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |