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

The rolling year again brought on the day,
That snatch'd from Lucius half his soul away;
That day on which he mournful vigils kept,
And o'er Fidelia's tomb in anguish wept:
Fidelia gone! life is to him no more,
Than a lone walk upon a dreary shore.

Deep silence reign'd, the midnight hour was past,
And darkness o'er the globe her veil had cast;
In vain the peaceful bed invites to rest,—
No room for peace in woe-fraught Lucius' breast:
Sigh follows sigh, and groan responses groan,
Nor wonder, since from earth Fidelia's flown;
When sudden, quick as lightning, to his sight
(Darkness dispell'd) a Vision heavenly bright
Stands at his feet; the smiling form he knew,
And all Fidelia brightens to his view;
His pulses flutt'ring beat, he would have spoke,
But passions wild his half-form'd Accents choak;
When thus, in sounds which long had bless'd his ear
The Vision strives her Lucius' breast to cheer.

“Can sight of me, the lovely Phantom said,
“(And smiling spoke) in Lucius raise a dread?—
“At my approach pleasure was wont to rise,
“And speak a bosom'd welcome thro' your eyes;
“In Me the same Fidelia you view,
“As loving, gentle, friendly, and as true.

“That hour, that long-wish'd hour, which kindly gave
“My soul to heaven, my body to the grave;
“To hear the groans that rent your throbbing breast,
“My pulseless corpse close to your bosom prest;
“While fix'd on me alone you groan'd despair,
“My pitying soul, still hov'ring in the air,
“Almost reluctant flew to joys above,
“For Lucius shar'd with Heav'n Fidelia's love.

“Your sighs, your pray'rs, by me convey'd to heav'n,
“Once more to Earth Fidelia have given;
“The healing balm of lenient Hope to pour,
“And Peace, long banish'd, to your soul restore.

“Did Mortals know their Maker, they'd revere,
“All adoration, love, devoid of fear;
“That fear excepted, which with ardent glow
“From Gratitude's warm spring must constant flow,
“Lest they offend that pow'r by whom they move,
“Their Being's Author, Fountain of pure Love;
“No bug-bear tyrant thirsting after blood,
“But a kind Father, merciful and good.

“How then can man ungratefully presume
“To paint th' Almighty with a Demon's gloom?
“How can he impiously a tyrant call
“That God who into Being smil'd us all.
“How with a jaundic'd eye to Heaven impart
“A cheerless picture from a cheerless heart?
“Or with mean selfish views the world deceive,
“Or force with Threats weak vot'ries—to believe.

“When Death my Lucius from his chains shall free,
“And give him to immortal joys and me;—
“(Oh, let not Death my Lucius affright,
“Death is our Angel-guide to realms of light)
“With love seraphic shall Fidelia tend,
“And lead to raptures which shall never end;
“Thro' fields of Ether infinite to rove;
“New scenes of ever-varying bliss to prove;
“But what those joys, or from what fountains flow,
“Must ne'er, so Heav'n ordains, transpire below;—
“If known, mortals wou'd burst their chains of clay,
“And rush, unbidden, to the realms of day.

“Let Lucius then with resignation wait,
“Till Death to joys immortal shall translate;
“And when Heav'n calls to a celestial birth,
“And bids release from cares, from pain, and earth,
“Boldly launch forth: Fear nothing; hope the best;
“By me Heav'n thus commands—Hope and be blest.”

She smil'd, she wav'd her hand, and sudden Night
Conceal'd the lovely image from his sight:
Her words to peace his anxious soul restor'd,
And, kneeling, Heav'n with gratitude he strait ador'd.