Classic Poem

While Friendship and Gratitude join to inspire
The Muse's enlivening strain,
A tender regret still represses the fire,
And mixes, with pleasure, a pain.

To the present she looks with the raptures of joy,
With the wishes of tenderest love:
But the future calls forth from the bosom a sigh,
Which nor Virtue, nor Reason reprove!

Yet Hope, the fair soother of mortals below,
Still points to the glittering goal;
One touch of her wand removes sorrow and woe,
And charms ev'ry pang of the Soul:

On Religion attendant, she leads to the skies,
Where Virtue has plac'd her reward,
Superiour to Envy her Vot'ries shall rise,
Nor the evils of Mortals regard.

Then with Innocent Mirth let us hallow the day,
Which sanction'd an Union so dear;
The rapturous impulse our hearts shall obey,
Nor sadden its hours with a tear.

Perhaps ere again thro' the varying year,
The Sun shall his Chariot roll,
The Friends to the heart of Affection so dear,
Shall be far from us—far as the pole!

If Heav'n, in bounty to many, provides
That, safe from the storms of the main,
Conducted in peace o'er the salt-roaring tides,
They visit their Mansion again:

The Poet shall hasten to welcome the day,
And heed their sad absence no more;
With delight long-forgotten again tune his lay,
To hail their return to our Shore.

But if, in the records of merciful fate,
No moment so happy be given:
Religion and Hope shall his bosom elate,
That theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.