Classic Poem

Bright are the beams meridian suns diffuse,
Yet drooping nature mourns their force severe,
And hails the gentle fall of ev'ning dews,
Whose cooling drops the wither'd world repair.

Bright is our mortal Being's noon-tide state,
The glowing breast when new-born spirits fire,
When vast designs th' aspiring soul elate,
And fair atchievements ev'ry wish inspire.

While unrelax'd the springs of action play,
And gay success on raptur'd fancy smiles,
She bids all dangers and all doubts give way,
To crown the hero's, or the statesman's toils.

Untaught what cross events the wise confound,
How time and chance the boast of pow'r deride,
Exulting hope o'erleaps the fated bound,
By imperfection fixt to human pride.

Subdu'd at length beneath laborious life,
With passion struggling, and by care deprest,
In peaceful Age , that ends the various strife,
The harrass'd virtues gladly sink to rest.

Yet not in flow'ry indolence reclin'd,
They waste the important gift of sober hours:
To ev'ry state has heav'n it's task assign'd,
To ev'ry task assign'd it's needful pow'rs.

Within the fun'ral cypress awful gloom,
Shall pleasure her fantastic garlands wreathe?
Shall giddy mirth profane the neighb'ring tomb,
And folly riot in the vale of death?

For better purposes, to favour'd man
Is length of days, tremendous blessing! giv'n;
To regulate our life's disorder'd plan,
And purify the blemish'd soul for heav'n.

For oft, alas! amidst our fairest aim,
The busy passions mix their fatal art,
Perplex defective virtue's genuine scheme,
And slyly warp the unsuspecting heart.

Oft too, by inconsistent crouds misled,
Our devious steps thro' winding mazes stray:
How few the simple path of duty tread,
And stedfast keep their heav'n-directed way!

With calm severity, unpassion'd age
Detects the specious fallacies of youth:
Reviews the motives, which no more engage,
And weighs each action in the scale of truth.

The soul no more on mortal good relies,
But nobler objects urge her hopes and fears,
And, sick of folly, views no tempting prize
Beneath the radiant circle of the stars.

How blest, who thus by added years improv'd,
With cautious steps their lengthen'd journey tread!
And, from the task of sultry life remov'd,
Converse with wisdom in it's ev'ning shade.

Such, gracious heav'n! be P ULTENEY'S setting day,
And chearful peace it's various labours close:
May no dark cloud obscure it's soften'd ray,
Nor ruffling tempest shake it's calm repose.

Amidst the waste of years, preserve intire,
The undecaying spirit's nobler part,
The vivid spark of intellectual fire,
And all the gentler graces of the heart.

When late he sinks beneath the common doom,
May sacred hope attend his parting breath:
May virtue gild his passage to the tomb,
And pow'rful faith disarm the dart of death.