 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
128
To the Memory of Mr. WILLIAM BAKER.
I
Oh, cease, my beating heart, to mourn!Oh, stop mine eye, thy tear!
The grave admits of no return,
And grief is fruitless here!
II
Thus speaks the philosophic mind;Thus nature's self repels;
But mine expands for human-kind,
And what it feels it tells.
III
Lamented shade! dear friend adieu!Yet take this artless verse;
The muse you lov'd, that lov'd you too,
Thus sorrows o'er your herse.
129
IV
No more, in social converse join'd,Thou'lt ope' thy heart to me;
No more shall I improve my mind,
By catching sense from thee.
V
Truth stampt its image on thy heart,Which merit might insure;
Thy tender soul still felt the smart
Thy skill essay'd to cure.
VI
So sympathetic was thy breast,To ev'ry sad appeal,
Thy voice alone was almost blest
To mitigate and heal.
130
VII
Vain to thyself thy pow'r has prov'd;Nor cou'd with fate contend;
The world has lost the man it lov'd,
And I, alas, my friend!
VIII
The poor, the maim'd, their loss bemoan;Protracted woe they see:
Mis'ry forgets the pain its own,
By feeling more for thee.
IX
Oft' we behold the source of lightRadiant the morn display;
Yet, when he gains meridian height,
Black tempests cloud the day.
131
X
Thus, Baker, thus, thy life's fair sun,Just reach'd its destin'd noon;
Fate gave the word, its race was run;
Was run, alas, so soon!
XI
Thy soul's in regions bright and fair,Where virtue's sure to go;
That worth now makes it honour'd there,
That made it lov'd below.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |