Sketches in verse with prose illustrations. By Mr. Polwhele. Second edition, with several additional pieces |
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THE TOMB OF ROUSSEAU. |
 | Sketches in verse |  |
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THE TOMB OF ROUSSEAU.
Thanks to
Eliza's art, that trac'd
This fairy spot in colors clear;
Pure as her own enlighten'd taste,
And soft as melting pity's tear.
This fairy spot in colors clear;
Pure as her own enlighten'd taste,
And soft as melting pity's tear.
Romantic isle! Thy poplars wave
Their gloom, to please a parted shade:
And yet they tremble o'er the grave
Where a cold Deist's bones are laid.
Their gloom, to please a parted shade:
And yet they tremble o'er the grave
Where a cold Deist's bones are laid.
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What tho' they whisper to the breeze
Plaints that might soothe the ear of love;
As Halcyon stills the ruffled seas,
Or warbling woodlark charms the grove;
Plaints that might soothe the ear of love;
As Halcyon stills the ruffled seas,
Or warbling woodlark charms the grove;
They murmur but to waken pain,
Where Virtue holds no quiet sleep:
They touch the gentle soul in vain,
Where blushing virgins dare not weep.
Where Virtue holds no quiet sleep:
They touch the gentle soul in vain,
Where blushing virgins dare not weep.
Yet shall I love the Elysian isle
That oft may rise, in kind relief,
To bid me catch Eliza's smile,
And calm, by Fancy's aid, my grief.
That oft may rise, in kind relief,
To bid me catch Eliza's smile,
And calm, by Fancy's aid, my grief.
And when far off the bark shall bear
Her form from this forsaken shore;
When my poor widow'd heart shall share
Eliza's sympathy no more;
Her form from this forsaken shore;
When my poor widow'd heart shall share
Eliza's sympathy no more;
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Haply the pencil'd scene may move
To memory dear, a thousand sighs—
But ah! that Tomb can only prove—
The type of all my buried joys!
To memory dear, a thousand sighs—
But ah! that Tomb can only prove—
The type of all my buried joys!
| Sketches in verse | |