In deep depression sunk, the enfeebled mind
Will to the deaf cold elements complain,
And tell the embosom'd grief, however vain,
To sullen charges and the viewless wind.
Tho' no repose on thy dark breast I find,
I still enjoy thee-cheerless as thou art;
For in thy quiet gloom the exhausted heart
Is calm, tho' wretched; hopeless, yet resign'd.
While to the winds and waves its sorrows given,
May reach-tho' lost on earth-the ear of Heaven!"
"Come balmy Sleep! tired Nature's soft resort!
On these sad temples all thy poppies shed;
And bid gay dreams, from Morpheus' airy court,
Float in light vision round my aching head!
Secure of all thy blessings, partial Power!
On his hard bed the peasant throws him down ;
And the poor sea-boy, in the rudest hour,
Enjoys thee more than he who wears a crown. Clasp'd in her faithful shepherd's guardian arms, Well may the village-girl sweet slumbers prove; And they, O gentle Sleep! still taste thy charms, Who wake to labour, liberty, and love.
But still thy opiate aid thou dost deny
To calm the anxious breast, to close the streaming eye."
"But darker now grows life's unhappy day,
Dark with new clouds of evil yet to come,
Her pencil sickening Fancy throws away,
And weary Hope reclines upon the tomb;
And points my wishes to that tranquil shore,
Where the pale spectre Care pursues no more!"
The same spirit breathes in her pieces "On Spring," "The Punishment of Avarice," &c.
The man who wrote the three following stanzas, had no necessity to write again to secure an immortality:
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
Or wak'd to ecstacy the living lyre.
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of Time, did ne'er unrol;
Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem, of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathom'd caves of Ocean bear :
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
"True to his Love the dear Palemon dies."
There are few passages in the whole compass of English Poetry that are more touching in sensibility, than that to which tnis line refers. We subjoin it:
"O rescu'd from destruction late so nigh,
Beneath whose fatal influence doom'd I lie ;
Are we then exil'd to this last retreat
Of life, unhappy! thus decreed to meet!
Ah! how unlike what yester-morn enjoy'd,
Enchanting hopes, for ever now destroy'd!
For, wounded far beyond all healing power,
Palemon dies, and this his final hour:
By those fell breakers, where in vain I strove,
At once cut off from fortune, life, and love!
Far other scenes must soon present my sight,
That lie deep-buried yet in tenfold night.
Ah! wretched father of a wretched son,
Whom thy paternal prudence has undone !
How will remembrance of this blinded care
Bend down thy head with anguish and despair!
Such dire effects from avarice arise,
That, deaf to Nature's voice, and vainly wise,
With force severe endeavours to control
The noblest passions that inspire the soul.
But, O Thou sacred Power! whose law connects
Th' eternal chain of causes and effects,
Let not thy chastening ministers of rage
Afflict with sharp remorse his feeble age !
And you, Arion! who with these the last
Of all our crew survive the Shipwreck past-
Ah! cease to mourn! those friendly tears restrain;
Nor give my dying moments keener pain!
Since Heaven may soon thy wandering steps restore,
When parted hence, to England's distant shore;
Shouldst thou, th' unwilling messenger of Fate,
To him the tragic story first relate,
O! friendship's generous ardour then suppress,
Nor hint the fatal cause of my distress:
Nor let each horrid incident sustain
The lengthen'd tale to aggravate his pain.
Ah! then remember well my last request,
For her who reigns for ever in my breast;
Yet let him prove a father and a friend,
The helpless maid to succour and defend.
Say, I this suit implor'd with parting breath,
So Heaven befriend him at his hour of death!
But O! to lovely Anna shouldst thou tell
What dire untimely end thy friend befel,
Draw o'er the dismal scene soft Pity's veil,
And lightly touch the lamentable tale :
Say that my love, inviolably true,
No change, no diminution ever knew:
Lo! her bright image, pendant on my neck,
Is all Palemon rescu'd from the wreck:
Take it, and say, when panting in the wave,
I struggled life and this alone to save!
My soul, that fluttering hastens to be free,
Would yet a train of thoughts impart to thee;
But strives in vain ;-the chilling ice of Death
Congeals my blood, and choaks the stream of breath:
Resign'd, she quits her comfortless abode,
To course that long, unknown, eternal road.—
O sacred Source of ever-living light!
Conduct the weary wanderer in ber flight!
Direct her onward to that peaceful shore,
Where peril, pain, and death are felt no more!
When thou some tale of hapless love shalt hear,
That steals from Pity's eye the melting tear,
Of two chaste hearts, by mutual passion join'd,
To absence, sorrow, and despair consign'd,
O! then to swell the tides of social woe
That heal th' afflicted bosom they o'erflow,
While Memory dictates, this sad Shipwreck tell,
And what distress thy wretched friend befel!
Then, while in streams of soft compassion drown'd
The swains lament, and maidens weep around ;*·
While lisping children, touch'd with infant fear,
With wonder gaze, and drop th' unconscious tear,
O! then this moral bid their souls retain,
"All thoughts of happiness on earth are vain.”
|