Malvern Hills with Minor Poems, and Essays. By Joseph Cottle. Fourth Edition |
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ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY. |
 | Malvern Hills |  |
ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY.
SWEET Maid! who late didst charm our sight,
And round thy path a lustre shed;
We see thee still in vision bright,
Till memory whispers, thou art dead!
And round thy path a lustre shed;
We see thee still in vision bright,
Till memory whispers, thou art dead!
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Veil'd is the future! dim and dark!
When, in our confidence and pride,
We seem about to steer our bark
O'er pleasure's gay, and glittering tide.
When, in our confidence and pride,
We seem about to steer our bark
O'er pleasure's gay, and glittering tide.
Death launches from his ebon throne
The shaft, with terrors charged, supreme;
Which hurries us to worlds unknown,
And sends us down oblivion's stream!
The shaft, with terrors charged, supreme;
Which hurries us to worlds unknown,
And sends us down oblivion's stream!
But yesterday, and thou didst stand,
(With naught thy ample gaze to bound,)
Foremost in youth and beauty's band,
Admired, beloved, by all around.
(With naught thy ample gaze to bound,)
Foremost in youth and beauty's band,
Admired, beloved, by all around.
Now thou hast pass'd life's rugged road,
The clod sustains thy peaceful head;
With vault, and worm, is thine abode,
And “clay-cold” is thy lowly bed.
The clod sustains thy peaceful head;
With vault, and worm, is thine abode,
And “clay-cold” is thy lowly bed.
Ye, who your loveliest friend deplore,
And heave affection's fervent sigh;
Think, ere a fleeting hour be o'er,
That you, like her, in dust may lie.
And heave affection's fervent sigh;
Think, ere a fleeting hour be o'er,
That you, like her, in dust may lie.
Your moments pass, like sands, away;
Provide for heaven before too late;
Nor leave to an uncertain day,
The interests of an endless state.
Provide for heaven before too late;
Nor leave to an uncertain day,
The interests of an endless state.
They who can call their God their friend,
May look toward death without dismay,
And only they can meet their end
Calm as the summer's closing day.
May look toward death without dismay,
And only they can meet their end
Calm as the summer's closing day.
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Sweet Maid! thy worth shall long remain
The theme of many a friend sincere;
Whilst he who pens the mournful strain,
With their's shall blend the pitying tear.
The theme of many a friend sincere;
Whilst he who pens the mournful strain,
With their's shall blend the pitying tear.
| Malvern Hills | |