Neglected Genius A Poem. Illustrating the Untimely And Unfortunate Fate Of Many British Poets; From the Period of Henry the Eighth to the Aera of the Unfortunate Chatterton. Containing Imitations of their Different Styles, &c. &c. By W. H. Ireland |
 |
|
James Hammond.
|
|
|
|
 | Neglected Genius |  |
35
James Hammond.
IMPROBE AMOR, QUID NON MORTALIA PECTORA COGIS?
Lo! now a second sacrifice we view,
With glowing passions, and with bosom true;
See melancholy Hammond slowly move,
The bard dejected, and the slave of love.
Ah! cou'd a sordid thought debase her mind
For whom the poet felt a flame refin'd?
Could mundane wealth sufficient charms impart,
To make the nymph reject a lover's heart?
Yes, for though bless'd with fortune to ensure
Content through life, to her the bard was poor;
36
And with obdurate bosom scorn'd his fate.
Hammond oppress'd, to hopeless love a prey,
Warbled his Elegies, the minstrel's lay;
Array'd in classic elegance the strain,
Breath'd all he felt, and chid the nymph's disdain;
Nor wit nor wine, nor pleasure's mantling glow,
Reliev'd his breast, where dwelt the germ of woe.
FRIEND.
Flag not spirits, life is brief,
Let not sorrow prove time's thief;
Spurn fell sadness, cherish joy,
Live for Bacchus, rosy boy;
Thy brows with clust'ring grapes entwine,
Fill, fill; the goblet fill with wine.
37
Vainly wouldst thou have me quaff,
Mingling with the revel laugh;
Joy thou bidd'st me court in vain,
Link'd in sorrow's icy chain;
Dark cypress is the crown I wear,
And henbane's juice, the draught of care.
FRIEND.
If no Bacchanalian flood
Can inspire thy sluggard blood,
Come, and, fill'd with Venus' charms,
Sink enraptur'd in her arms;
And, with joys thine heart imbu'd,
Own 'twas love thy care subdu'd.
38
Why more deep implant the thorn,
Which my throbbing heart hath torn?
Absence is the source of grief,
Whence thou bidd'st me seek relief;
Wine can never chase my bane,
Love redoubles all my pain.
Thus Hammond felt no friendly voice could save
The wasting lover from his destin'd grave:
The cruel Delia saw her slave depart,
Ah! then too late compunction riv'd her heart;
With pity's tear she dew'd the poet's urn,
And shar'd a portion of his griefs in turn;
Through life preserv'd a virgin's spotless guise,
Then sought her true love in his native skies.
| Neglected Genius | |