Classic Poem

CHORUS .

Hence clamour-loving joy be gone, —
Come sober, serious Muse, come on,
And mournfully majestic flow,
In the dread pomp of regal woe.

First, Mr. Lowe.


Her patron and her father banish'd,
Every orphan muse shall mourn,
Honour's fled, and glory's vanish'd,
To the death-devoted urn.

Second, Miss Burchell.

Sing some sad, some plaintive ditty,
Steept in tears that endless flow;
Melancholy notes of pity,
Notes that mean a world of woe.

Third, Mr. Lowe

Charity no more shall charm us,
But shall make a virgin's vow,
And thou, who fondly dreamt to warm us,
Hope, ah! where's thy anchor now?

Fourth, Miss Burchell

You, his offspring, cease to languish,
Claim not sorrow for your due;
We demand our share of anguish,
We were all his children too.

Fifth, Mr. Lowe.

Music's dumb, and Painting sighing,
Drops her pencil from her hands,
Sculpture with her sisters dying
See! herself a statue stands.

Sixth, Miss Burchell.

You, his consort, think on heaven,
Blest, tho' immature he fled,
To him deathless joys are given,
Weep not for the happy dead.

Seventh, Mr. Lowe.

Weep for us — we tears must borrow
To express our misery,
Private grief to public sorrow,
Is a riv'let to a sea.

Eighth, Miss Burchell

Father! Master! Husband! Brother!
Every blessed tender name!
Ye must dye — till such another,
Call you back to life and fame.


Ninth, Mr. Lowe.

Such another? — we possess him,
To revive his father's fame,
Honour, Glory, Wisdom, bless him,
Not another, but the same.


Tenth, Miss Burchell.

Yes — He is the kingdom's glory,
The advice his grandsire gave,
Shall secure his fame in story,
'Twas, " Be honest and be brave. "


CHORUS .

GEORGE is Albion 's consolation,
The king's life's the common weal:
Every grief that wounds the nation,
Long may he survive to heal!