Poems on Various Subjects with some Essays in Prose, Letters to Correspondents, &c. and A Treatise on Health. By Samuel Bowden |
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ELEGIAC VERSES,
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 | Poems on Various Subjects |  |
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ELEGIAC VERSES,
ON A Late Gay Gentleman, (Skill'd in Music) Who Dy'd Young.
Say, Melpomene, mournful mistress! say,
Why loiters thus the elegiac lay?
Why hangs the cittern in thy bower so long
Untun'd, and loth to warble out a song?
Why loiters thus the elegiac lay?
Why hangs the cittern in thy bower so long
Untun'd, and loth to warble out a song?
Come, gentle Venus! from thy Cyprian grove,
And mourn a friend to music, and to love.
Come, gentle goddess! not with crimson clad,
But rob'd in cypress, come demure, and sad.
See o'er their silent lyres the Muses weep,
And on their quivers drowsy Cupids sleep.
And mourn a friend to music, and to love.
Come, gentle goddess! not with crimson clad,
But rob'd in cypress, come demure, and sad.
150
And on their quivers drowsy Cupids sleep.
Husht were the groves, the zephyrs breath'd no more,
And the last echos languish'd on the shore.
When our harmonious Strephon fled the plain,
And shepherds pip'd, and fountains play'd in vain.
Then sunk the rural songs, the birds were mute,
The birds which often listen'd to his flute;
Yet the soft muse shall whisper thro' the vale,
And publish to the rocks the tragic tale:
Yet shall his echo dwell about the cave,
Where poplars nod, and solemn willows wave:
Where sable yews an awful gloom display,
And the chaste groves will scarce admit the day.
There on his image shall my fancy feed,
Fair as when once he sung the banks of Tweed.
Beneath some rock, I'll raise a mossy bed,
An deckd a flow'ry pillow for his head.
Shall gentle Strephon want a tragic line,
Strephon, who sung so oft', and sung so fine?
And the last echos languish'd on the shore.
When our harmonious Strephon fled the plain,
And shepherds pip'd, and fountains play'd in vain.
Then sunk the rural songs, the birds were mute,
The birds which often listen'd to his flute;
Yet the soft muse shall whisper thro' the vale,
And publish to the rocks the tragic tale:
Yet shall his echo dwell about the cave,
Where poplars nod, and solemn willows wave:
Where sable yews an awful gloom display,
And the chaste groves will scarce admit the day.
There on his image shall my fancy feed,
Fair as when once he sung the banks of Tweed.
Beneath some rock, I'll raise a mossy bed,
An deckd a flow'ry pillow for his head.
Shall gentle Strephon want a tragic line,
Strephon, who sung so oft', and sung so fine?
'Twas on that night, when all was blithe and gay,
Bright shone the stars, and ladys bright as they:
When, lo! a sudden damp the scene o'ercast,
Mourn all ye fair—for Strephon breathes his last.
Then silent sunk the music at the sound,
And the wan lamps lookt sickening all around,
Poor Strephon once at every ball the chief,
Forever flies—and joy transforms to grief.
Bright shone the stars, and ladys bright as they:
When, lo! a sudden damp the scene o'ercast,
Mourn all ye fair—for Strephon breathes his last.
151
And the wan lamps lookt sickening all around,
Poor Strephon once at every ball the chief,
Forever flies—and joy transforms to grief.
So when an army marshal'd on the plain,
With shining ranks begins the great campaign:
If by some adverse fate the leader dies,
Thro' all the camp a sudden pannic flies.
With shining ranks begins the great campaign:
If by some adverse fate the leader dies,
Thro' all the camp a sudden pannic flies.
Strephon was graceful, free, genteel, and gay,
All eyes lookt sad, when Strephon was away;
No splendid circle of the fair was found,
But sprightly Strephon with his music crown'd.
Of hyp, and spleen he chas'd away the gloom,
And sullen care forsook the chearful room.
Envy can add no follys to his score,
But love, and wine—tho' malice count them o'er.
Zealots must own he had a generous mind,
Was honest, humble, affable, and kind;
True to his promise, faithful to his friend,
Averse to slander, forward to commend.
All eyes lookt sad, when Strephon was away;
No splendid circle of the fair was found,
But sprightly Strephon with his music crown'd.
Of hyp, and spleen he chas'd away the gloom,
And sullen care forsook the chearful room.
Envy can add no follys to his score,
But love, and wine—tho' malice count them o'er.
Zealots must own he had a generous mind,
Was honest, humble, affable, and kind;
True to his promise, faithful to his friend,
Averse to slander, forward to commend.
Prudes may profess, and hypocrites may cant;
Sly saints devoutly curse, and bigots rant;
Some cheat in private, who in public pray,
And villains parts behind the curtain play.
Some flaws in every character we find,
His faults were few, and of a generous kind;
Censorious minds are often over nice,
And with ill-nature call all pleasure vice.
Some faults, and follys stain the brightest soul,
But love and charity still crown the whole.
Sly saints devoutly curse, and bigots rant;
Some cheat in private, who in public pray,
And villains parts behind the curtain play.
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His faults were few, and of a generous kind;
Censorious minds are often over nice,
And with ill-nature call all pleasure vice.
Some faults, and follys stain the brightest soul,
But love and charity still crown the whole.
| Poems on Various Subjects | |