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Athwart the gloom profound! The fickly taper, Prone on the lonely grave of the dear man
The past endearments of their lofter hours,
See yonder hallow'd fane! the pious work Sweet'ner of life, and folder of society! Of names once fam'd, now dubious or forgot, I owe thee much. Thou hast deserv'd from me, And buried 'midst the wreck of things which were : Far, far beyond what I can ever pay. There lic interr'd the more illustrious dead. Oft have I prov'd the labours of thy love, The wind is up : hark ! how it howls ! Methinks, And the warm efforts of the gentle heart Till now, I never heard a found fo dreary: [bird Anxious to plcafe. O! when my friend and I Doors creak, and windows clap, and night's foul In some thick wood have wander'd heedless on, Rook'din the spire screams loud; the gloomy aisles Hid from the vulgar eye, and sat us down Black plaster'd, and hung round with threds of Upon the floping cowilip.cover'd bank, foutcheons,
Where the pure limpid stream has slid along And tatter'd coats of arms, send back the found In grateful errors thro' the underwood [thrush Laden with heavier airs, from the low vaults, Sweet inurm'ring; methought, the thrill-tongued The mansions of the dead. Rous'd from their Mended his song of love; the footy blackbird In grim array the grifly spectres rise, [slumbers, Mellow'd his pipe, and soften'd every note ; Grin horrible, and obftinately fullen
The eglantine linell'd sweeter, and the rose Pass and repass, huth'd as the foot of night. Alum'd a dye more deep; whilst ev'ry flow'r Again! the icreech-owl shrieks: ungracioussound! Vied with his fellows-plant in luxury I'll hear no more; it makes one's blood run chill. Of dress. Oh! then the longeit summer's day
Quite round the pile, a row of rev'rend elms, Seem'd 100, too much in haste ; ftill the full heart Coeval near with that, all ragged Thew, Had not imparted half: 'twas happiness Longlah'd by the rude winds : fome rift half down Too exquisite to lait. Of joys departed, Their branchloss trunks; others so thin a-top, Not to return, how painful the remembrance ! That scarce two crows could lodge in the same Dull Grave! thou spoil'It the dance of youth
(pen'd here :
ful blood, Strange things, the neighbours fay, have hap- Strik'st out the dimple from the cheek of mirth, Wiid ihricks have issued froin the hollow tombs; And ev'ry sinirking feature from the face ; Dead men have come again, and walk'd about ; Branding ourlaughter with the name of madness. And the great bell has toll'd, unrung, untouchd. Where are the jetters now? the man of health Such tales their cheer, at wake or goslipping, Complexionally pleasant: where the droll? When it draws near to witching time of night. Whole ev'ry look and gesture was a joke
Oft in the lone church-yard at night I'vc teen, To clapping theatres and shouting crowds, By glimpse of moon-shine, cheq'ring thro' the | And made ev'n thick-lipp'd mufing Melancholy trecs,
To gather up her face into a smile The school-boy, with his satchel in his hand, Before the was aware ? Ah ! fullen now, Whistling aloud to bear his courage up, And dumb as the green turf that covers them ! And ligh.lv tripping o'er the long Hat itones Where are the mighty thunderbolts of war? (With netiles skirted, and with mors o'ergrown) The Roman Casars and the Grecian chiefs, That tell in homely phrase who lie below; The boast of story? Where the hot-brain'd youth? Sudden he starts! and hears, or thinks he hears, Who the tiara at his pleature tore The found of something purring at his heels : From kings of all the then discover'd globe ; Full fast he flies, and dares not look behind him, And cried, forsooth, because his arm was hamTill out of breath he overtakes his fellows; And had not room enough to do its work? [per'd, Who gather round, and wonder at the tale Alas! how tlim, dishonourably slim! Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly,
And cramm'd into a space we bluth to name. 'That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand Proud royalty ! how alter'd in thy looks! O er fome new-open’d grave; and, strange to tell ! How blank thy features, and how wan thy hue! Evanishes at crowing of the cock.
Son of the morning! whither art thou gone? The new-made widow too I've sometimes spied, Where haft thou hid thy many-spangled head, Sad sight! Now moving o'er the prostrate dead: And the majestic menace of thine eyes Liniels, the crawls along in doleful black, Felt from afar? Pliant and pow'rleis now, While bursts of sorrow guth from either eye, Like new-born infant bound up in his swathes, Taft-falling down her now untafted checki Or victim tumbled Hat upon his back,
That throbs beneath the sacrificer's knife: Worn on the edge of days, the brass confumes,
Here all the mighty troublers of the earth Araby's gums and odoriferous drugs,
Who swam to for’reign rule thro' leas of blood; And honours by the heralds duly paid Th'oppretlivc, sturdy, man-destroying villains, In mode and form, ev'n to a very lcruple; Who ravag'd kingdoms, and laid empires waste, O cruel irony! these come too late;
And in a crucl wantonness of pow'r And only mock whom they were meant to honor. Thinn d ftates of half their people, and gave up Surely, there's not a dungeon.save that's buried To want the reft; now, like a storm that's spent, In the highway, unshrouded and uncoffin'd, Lie hulhd, and meanly Incak behind thy covert. But lies as soft, and sleeps as found, as he. Vain thought! to hide them from the gen’ral scorn Sorry pre-eminence of high descent
That haunts and dogs them like an injur'd ghost Above the vulgar-born, to rot in state ! [on, Implacable. Here too, the petty tyrant,
But see! the well-plum'd hcarse comes nodding Whose fcant domains geographer ne'er notic'd, Stately and Now; and properly attended And, well for neighb'ring grounds, of arm as short, By the whole fable tribe, that painful watch Who fix'd his iron talons on the
Nor pleads his rank and birthright. Under ground
When self-csteem, or others adulation,
Proud lineage, now how little thou appear'st! The grave discredits thee: thy charms expungid,
Thy roses faded, and thy lilies foil'd,
What hast thou more to boast of? Will thy lovers
Whilft surfeited upon thy dainalk cheek,
Coarse fare and carrion please chee full as well,
And leave as keen a relish on the sense.
lumbers down; That rafhly dar'd thee to th'unequal fight.
Like a hard-hunted beaft. How his great heart| And vex'd them in the fire: nor fly, nor infect, Beats thick! his roomy chest by far too scant Nor writhy snake, escap'd thy decp research. To give the lungs full play! what now avail But why this apparatus ? why this coft ? · The strong-built finewy limbs, and well-Spread Tell us, thou doughty keeper from the grave ! fhoulders?
Where are thy recipes and cordials now, See how he tugs for life, and lays about him, With the long list of vouchers for thy cures? Mad with his pain! cager he catches hold Alas ! thou speakest not. The buld iimpoftor Of what comes next to hand, and gralps it hard, Looks not more filly, when the cheat's found out. Just like a creature drowning! hideous fight! Here, the lank-sided miser, worft of felons ! Oh! how his eyes stand out and stare full ghaftly! Who meanly stole, discreditable shift! Whilit the distemper's rank and deadly venom
From back and belly too, their proper cheer; Shoots like a burning arrow cross his bowels, Eas'd of a tax it irk'd the wretch to pay And drinks his marrow up. Heard you that groan: To his own carcase, now lics chicaply lodg’d, It was his last. See how the great Goliath, By clam'rous appetites no longer teas'd, Just like a child that brawl’ditselfto rest, [boaster! Nor tedious bills of charges and repairs. Lies still. What mean'st thou then, ő mighty But, ah! where are his rents, his comings in ? Tovaunt ofnerves of thine : What means the bull, Aye! now you've made the rich man poor indeed: Unconscious of his strength, to play the coward, Robb’d of his gods, what has he left behind ! And fee before a feeble thing like man; O cursed lust of gold! when for thy fake
That, knowing well the blackness of his arm, The fool throws up his int'reft in both worlds, Trusts only in the well-invented knife! First starv'd in this, then damn'd in that to come.
With ftudy palc, and midnight vigils spent, How shocking must rhy fuminons be, O Death! The ftar-furveying sage close to his eye
To him that is at cale in his posetlions ; Applies the fight-invigorating tube ;
W'ho, counting on long years of pleasure here, And travlling thro' the boundless length of space, Is quite unfurnith'd for that world to come! Marks well the courtes of the far-fecn orbs, In that dread moment, how the frantic soul That roll with regular confusion there, Raves round the walls of her clay tenement, In ecstacy of thought. But ah! proud man! Runs to each avenue, and thricks for help, Great heights are hazardous to the weak head ! But thricks in vain! how withfully the looks Soon, very soon, thy firmeit footing fails ; On all she's leaving, now no longer hers ! And down thou dropp'st into that darksome place, A little longer, yet a little longer, Where nor device nor knowledge ever came. O might the stay to wash away her stains,
Here the tongue-warrior lies! disabled now, And tie her for her pailage! mournful fight! Difarm’d, dithonour'd, like a wretch that's gagg'd, Her very eyes weep blood; and every groan And cannot tell his ail to pallers-by. [change: She hcaves is hig with horror : but the foe, Great man of language, whence this mighty Like a Itaunch murd'rer ftcady to his purpose, This dumb despair, and drooping of the head? Pursues her close thro' ev'ry lane of life, Though strong persuafion hung upon thy lip,
Nor milles once the track, but presses on; And My Intinuation's softer arts
Till, forc'd at last to the tremendous verge, In ambuth lay about thy flowing tongue; At once the finks to everlasting ruin. Alas! how chop-fall’n now! thick mists and filence Sure, 'ris a serious thing to die ! my soul! Reft, like a wcary cloud, upon thy breast What a strange moment must it be, when near Unceasing. Ah! where is the lifted arm, Thy journey's end thou hast the gulf in view! The strength of action, and the force of words, That awful gulf no mortal c'er repassid The well-turn'd period, and the well-tun'd voice, To tell what's doing on the other side ! With all the lefser ornaments of phrase ? Nature runs back and thudders at the sight, Ah! Aed for ever, as they ne'er had been! And ev'ry life-Itring bleedsat thoughts of parting Raz'd from the book of fame : or, more provoking, For part they must : body and soul must part; Perhaps lome hackney, hunger-bitten scribbler Fond couple! link'd more close than wedded pair, Insults thy memory, and blots thy tomb This wings its way to its Almighty Source, With long flat narrative, or duller rhimes The witness of its actions, now its judge; With hcavy halting pace that drawl along; That drops into the dark and noisome grave, Enough to rouse a dead man into raye, Like a disabled pitcher of no usc. And warm with red resentment the wan check. If death was nothing, and nought after death;
Here the great masters of the healing art, If, when men died, at once they ccasid to be, There mighty mock defrauders of the tomb ! Returning to the barren womb of nothing, schee Spite of their juleps and catholicons,
Whence first they sprung; then might the debau, Rclign to fare. Proud Æfculapius' son, Untrembling mouth the heav'ns; then might the Where are thy boasted implements of art,
drunkard And all thy well-cramm'd magazines of health : Reel over his full bowl, and when 'tis drain d, Nor hill, nor vale, as far as fhip could go, Fill up another to the brim, and laugh (wretch Nor margin of the gravel-bottom'd brook, At the poor bug-bear Death ; then might the Escap'd thy rifling hand: from stubborn shrubs That's weary of the world, and tir'd of life, Thou wrung'st their shy retiring virtues out, At once give cach inquietude the flip,
Be fealing out of being when he pleas’d, A gentle tear; with mattock in his hand
Into fantastic schemes, which the long livers
And we that live must lend our carcaics From this world's ills, that at the very worst To cover our own offspring: in their turns Will foon blow o'er, thinking to mend ourselves They too muft cover theirs. 'Tis here all meet ! By boldly vent'ring on a world unknown, The thiv'ring Icelander, and sun-burnt Moor; And plunging headlong in the dark; 'tis mad : Men of all climes, that never met before ; No frenzy half so desperate as this.
And of all creeds, the Jew, the Turk, the Chriftian. Tell us, ye dead! will none of you in pity Here the proud prince, and favourite yet prouder, To those you left behind disclose the secret ? His lov'reign's keeper, and the people's Icourge, O! that some courteous ghost would blab it out, Are huddled out of fight. Here lie abalh'd What 'tis you are, and we must shortly be. The great negotiators of the earth, I've heard that souls departed have sometimes And celebrated masters of the balance, Forewarn'd men of their death: 'twas kindly done Deep read io stratagems, and wiles of courts : To knock and give th'alarum. But what means Now vain their treaty-skill! Death scorns to treat. This stinted charity ? 'tis but lame kindness Here the o'erloaded slave lings down his burthen That does its work by balves. Why might you not From his gall'd thoulders; and when the cruel Tell us what 'tis to dic? Do the strict laws
tyrant, of your society forbid your Speaking
With all his guards and tools of pow'r about him, Upon a point so nice? I'll ask no more ; Is meditating new un-heard-of hardships, Sellen like lamps in sepulchres, your thine Mocks his thort arın, and quick as thought oscapes, Ealightens but yourselves: well—'tis no matter : Where tyrants vex nor, and the weary reft. A very little time will clear up all,
Here the warm lover, leaving the cool thade, And make us learn'd as you are, and as close. The tell-tale echo, and the bubbling stream, Death's shafts fly thick! Here falls the village Time out of mind the fav’rite feats of love, (wain,
[round, Fast by his gentle mistress lays hiin down And there his pamper'd lord! The cup goes Unblaited by foul tongue. Hicre friends and foes And who fo artful as to put it by
Lic close, unmindful of their former feuds. 'Tis long since death had the majority; The lawn-rob'd prelate, and plain presbyter, Yet, ftrange! the living lay is not to heart. Ere while that stood aloof, as shy to meet, See yooder maker of the dead man's bed, Familiar mingle here, like fitter-streams The fexton, hoary-headed chronicle ! That fome rude interposing rock had split. 05 hard unmeaning face, down which nc'er stole Here is the large-limb'd peasant; here the child
of a span long, that never saw the sun, Sick of his bliss, and bent on new adventures, Nor press'd the nipple, strangled in life's porch : Evil he would needs try: nor tried in vain. Here is the mother with her tons and daughters; (Dreadful experiment ! destructive measure ! The barren wife; the long-demurring maid, Where the worst thing could happen, is success.) Whose lonely unappropriated sweets
Alas! too well he fped : the good he scorn'd Sinil'd like yon knot of cowslips on the cliff, Stalk'd orf reluctant, like an ill-us'd ghost, Not to be come at by the willing hand.
Not to return; or, if it did, its visits Here are the prudc severe, and gay coquette, Like those of angels short, and far between: The sober widow, and the young green virgin, Whilst the black dæmon, with his hell-scap'd train, Cropp'd like a rose before 'tis fully blown, Admitted once into its better room, Or half its worth disclos'd. Strange medley here! Grew loud and mutinous, nor would be gone ; Here garrulous old age winds up his tale ; Lording it o'er the inan, who now too late And jovial youth, of lightsome vacant heart, Saw the rash error which he could not mend; Whose ev'ry day was made of melody, [shrew, An error fatal not to him alone, Hears not the voice of mirth; the thrill-tongued But to his future fons, his fortune's heirs. Meek as the turtle-dove, forgets her chiding. Inglorious bondage! human nature groans Here are the wise, the gen’rcus, and the brave; Beneath a vassalage so vile and cruel, The just, the good, the worthless, the profane, And its vast body bleeds through ev'ry vein. The downright clown, and perfectly well-bred; What havock haft thou made, foulmonster, Sint The fool, the churl, the scoundrel, and the mean, Greatest and first of ills! the fruitful parent The supple statesman, and the patriot stern; Of woes of all dimensions ! but for the The wrecks of nations, and the spoils of time, Sorrow had never been. All noxious things With all the lumber of fix thousand years. Of vileft nature, other sorts of evils,
Poor man' how happy once in thy firft state ! | Are kindly circumscrib’d, and have their bounds.
That play their several parts. Norhead, nor heart, Of mischief more diffusive, raving loud,
O'er all those ample desorts Death has spread,