Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

A Midnight Scene:

An Apostrophe to the Memory of an unfortunate Young Lady.

An Elegy

'Tis solemn Darkness all, and Silence deep;
The Love-lorn Warbler ends her wailing Song,
And Wisdom's Bird awhile forgets in sleep
His Tale of sorrow, for the Night too long:
In downy Rest all active Beings lie,
Quick Fancy's tow'ring Wing, and Beauty's sun-clad Eye.

Not Fancy's wing has flatt'ring rest confin'd;
Her roving flight can heavy Sleep restrain?
Ev'n now the Goddess swift outstrips the wind,
Darts thro' the Skies, or skims the rolling Main.
At this lone hour, she foreign Worlds explores,
Basks in new-blazing Suns, and treads on golden Shores.

Still Silence reigns, save for the sullen Knell
Which round yon time-shrunk Abbey's Clock has spread,
While in the Ruins of her vaulted Cell
Night-wand'ring Echo lifts her languid Head:
Mean Time, with Midnight, from his Cavern drear
Bounds many a Spectre grim, begot by hoary fear.

Ill fares the Wretch, benighted and alone,
No friendly Lamp to guide his weary way,
Tho' doom'd to pass thro' horrid Deeps unknown,
O'er steepy Cliffs, or Desarts wild, to stray;
While busy Fancy forms new Scenes of Woe,
Fearful he steals along, with trembling steps, and slow.

Yet some would these terrific Scenes despise,
Would Danger's frown, however dreadful, brave,
And while black Midnight veils the sable skies,
Tread the wild Heath, or tempt the faithless wave;
When slighted Love, or solitary Care,
Congenial horrors seek, the haunts of pale despair.

Long, poor Lucinda! wilt thou wake my Woe,
Ill-fated Victim of disastrous Love!
Whose grief cou'd teach the savage tear to flow,
Whose Plaint could more than human Pity move:
Night darker gloom'd, unwilling to survey
Those lovely Eyes in Death, whose Beams abash'd the Day.

Say, ye sad Gales! her dying sighs ye bore;
Ye Fountain-maids! that heard her plaintive strain,
All as she wander'd o'er the dreary Shore,
Say, did not thus the Mourning Fair complain?
When, long imprison'd, from her lab'ring breast
Burst the big-swelling Grief, in groans and tears exprest.

“Has she, whom late the raptur'd Youth ador'd,
“Late the gay Queen of beauty and of love,
“Has she compassion from her slave implor'd,
“And fail'd that Pity, which she gave, to move?
“She has!—for ever veil your conscious light,
“Ye Glowing Orbs, that gild the friendly gloom of Night!

“Yet woud'st thou once, ungrateful as thou art!—
“But why—why will distracted Fancy rave?
“Sooner shall Anguish tear this wounded Heart,
“Till Death conduct Me to the sleeping Grave.

“In friendly death these tears shall cease to slow,
“And this swoln Breast resign it's load of painful Woe.”

She said; and silent sought this mournful shade,
In solemn Woe slow roll'd this ample Tide;
Each Breeze in sighs thro' trembling Oziers play'd,
And love-lorn Echo piteously reply'd.
Condolence vain! ah what avail'd to find
Than savage-hearted Man, the Winds and Waves more kind.

Yet hadst thou then her awful Silence seen,
As wild and trembling o'er this Bank she stood,
Ungentle Youth! Lucinda still had been,
Nor perish'd, sunk beneath the whelming Flood:
Her mute Distress alone had pow'r to move
And touch th' insensate Soul, that never knew to Love.

In this sad Shade here let me lonely mourn,
The duteous tear to her and friendship pay,
With one poor Verse inscribe her lowly Urn,
That many a Trav'ller passing thence may say,
“Whom thousands worship'd, Nature's; Beauty's Pride!
“That One despis'd, she could not bear, and Dy'd!”