The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson ... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c |
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ELEGY. |
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
300
ELEGY.
Lean not on Earth, 'twill pierce thee to the heart,
A broken reed at best, but oft a spear,
On its sharp point Peace bleeds and Hope expires.
Young.
A broken reed at best, but oft a spear,
On its sharp point Peace bleeds and Hope expires.
Young.
Beneath a range of elms, whose branches throw
A gloomy shade upon the path below;
There, scarcely shelter'd from the evening wind,
A youth, slow-wandering, pensively reclin'd;
Sunk were his eyes, his visage deadly wan,
Deep, deep, he groan'd, and thus in grief began:
A gloomy shade upon the path below;
There, scarcely shelter'd from the evening wind,
A youth, slow-wandering, pensively reclin'd;
Sunk were his eyes, his visage deadly wan,
Deep, deep, he groan'd, and thus in grief began:
Blest were those times that now, alas! are fled,
When health and plenty wanton'd round my head;
When all my griefs were sunk in downy rest,
And peace and pleasure dwelt within my breast;
Then smiling swains assembled in my train,
Hung on my arm, delighted with my strain;
Prest, when I spoke, with eager warmth my hand,
And begg'd the blessing but to be my friend,
Extoll'd my worth and pointed to a store
Of wealth and joy when all my toils were o'er;
My verse, they said, would cease not to inspire
While time remain'd, or mortals to admire.
When health and plenty wanton'd round my head;
When all my griefs were sunk in downy rest,
And peace and pleasure dwelt within my breast;
Then smiling swains assembled in my train,
Hung on my arm, delighted with my strain;
Prest, when I spoke, with eager warmth my hand,
And begg'd the blessing but to be my friend,
Extoll'd my worth and pointed to a store
Of wealth and joy when all my toils were o'er;
My verse, they said, would cease not to inspire
While time remain'd, or mortals to admire.
Dear, dear to me were Friendship's clasping arms,
But dearer far the young Lavinia's charms.
Friendship, if real, our distress may share,
But Love can soothe, can sweeten every care.
Sweet were the hours that fann'd our mutual flame,
And soft the strain that breath'd her charming name.
Her face, her form as Beauty's self were fair,
For every grace and every charm were there.
Our thoughts were guileless, pure our growing flame,
Our minds, our wishes, and our hearts the same.
No fears could damp, no foes our hopes destroy,
But each young moment brought an age of joy.
But dearer far the young Lavinia's charms.
Friendship, if real, our distress may share,
But Love can soothe, can sweeten every care.
Sweet were the hours that fann'd our mutual flame,
And soft the strain that breath'd her charming name.
Her face, her form as Beauty's self were fair,
For every grace and every charm were there.
Our thoughts were guileless, pure our growing flame,
Our minds, our wishes, and our hearts the same.
No fears could damp, no foes our hopes destroy,
But each young moment brought an age of joy.
These were the times that promis'd bliss in store,
But these, alas! will visit me no more.
Ah, why should beings frail as bark can be,
Trust the smooth calm of Life's uncertain sea,
That, rising, roars around the helpless crew,
And whelms their hopes for ever from their view.
Death, whose dread frown can chill the boldest heart,
Spread his cold horrors o'er my dearest part;
Thrice pale Lavinia, panting by my side,
Moan'd out my name in accents faint, and dy'd!
O where shall anguish fit expression find
To paint the woes of my distracted mind,
When all I lov'd, and all I wish'd to have,
Sunk from my arms into the yawning grave.
But these, alas! will visit me no more.
301
Trust the smooth calm of Life's uncertain sea,
That, rising, roars around the helpless crew,
And whelms their hopes for ever from their view.
Death, whose dread frown can chill the boldest heart,
Spread his cold horrors o'er my dearest part;
Thrice pale Lavinia, panting by my side,
Moan'd out my name in accents faint, and dy'd!
O where shall anguish fit expression find
To paint the woes of my distracted mind,
When all I lov'd, and all I wish'd to have,
Sunk from my arms into the yawning grave.
Kind is the world and eager to befriend
While health and success on our steps attend;
But let the tempest of Misfortune roar,
We hear its offers and its vows no more.
'Twas now, while ruin growl'd around my head,
That all my worth and all my prospects fled;
Health, comfort, peace, and with them every friend,
Whose heart could soothe, or pity, or defend;
Ev'n hope itself, Fate calls me to forego,
And nought remains but a whole world of woe.
While health and success on our steps attend;
But let the tempest of Misfortune roar,
We hear its offers and its vows no more.
'Twas now, while ruin growl'd around my head,
That all my worth and all my prospects fled;
Health, comfort, peace, and with them every friend,
Whose heart could soothe, or pity, or defend;
Ev'n hope itself, Fate calls me to forego,
And nought remains but a whole world of woe.
O Death! thou friend, thou sovereign cure indeed,
When wilt thou bid this bosom cease to bleed.
To thee I look, to thee distrest and wan,
To seal those sorrows that thy arm began;
Life wrings my soul with agonising care,
And earth can give no comfort but despair.
When wilt thou bid this bosom cease to bleed.
To thee I look, to thee distrest and wan,
To seal those sorrows that thy arm began;
Life wrings my soul with agonising care,
And earth can give no comfort but despair.
Here ceas'd he sad, and heav'd the deep-felt sigh,
While fast the tears stole down from either eye;
Bleak blew the wind, the darkness blacker grew,
And slow the youth with feeble pace withdrew.
While fast the tears stole down from either eye;
Bleak blew the wind, the darkness blacker grew,
And slow the youth with feeble pace withdrew.
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |