Classic Poem

The clam'rons din of busy day is o'er;
Night, downy-wing'd, extends her silent sway;
Soft o'er the village sheds the balmy pow'r,
And soothes with chearing dreams the hours away.

The sons of labour o'er the homely straw,
Out-stretch'd at ease, in sweet refreshment doze;
And modest maids from moon-led swains withdraw,
To bathe their lovely limbs in soft repose.

But what avail the silence-shedding eve,
The downy bed, or sleep's refreshing pow'r
Awake to anguish and inglorious grief,
Sylvia bewails the solitary hour.

Still unbefriended, succourless, and sad,
Her lasting shame arrests her closing eye;
Pensively droops her weary wakeful head,
And from her bosom bursts a bitter sigh.

Cease, Sylvia ! cease the unavailing view,
Quit the sad theme, and close the cry of care;
Can ceaseless sighs unspotted fame renew,
Or sorrows mingled with the midnight air?

Ah, no! 'tis past, th' irrevocable doom!
In vain the tear, in vain the plaintive lay;
When hell-born guilt extends her cheerless gloom,
Returning fame ne'er sheds one genial ray.

The scornful look, the acrimonious taunt,
Pale envy's sneer, and scandal's busy tongue,
Will e'er the hapless maiden mourner haunt,
Encrease her follies, and her shame prolong.

In vain the pitying pray'r, the wish forlorn,
The contrite tear, the penitential sigh;
Alike they smooth the wreathy brow of scorn,
Melt the proud heart, or loss of same supply.

Yes, you may sigh, and mourn, and wish in vain,
Nor find a balm to soothe your growing grief;
Contempt will still perpetuate the stain,
Returning virtue vainly beg relief.

No soft distress can melt the stubborn race,
Th' unfeeling heart, the ear that will not hear;
Nor maiden honour, sunk in sad disgrace,
Draw down the cheek the pity-streaming tear.

Yet, while the world, with rival pride, pursue
Your shameful fall, and unrelenting frown,
I'll drop a tear! — 'Tis nature's tribute, due
To other's woes, and frailties not our own.

Yes, I will mourn theehapless, charming maid!
Soft o'er thy virtue pour the pitying tear;
'Till low in earth thy lovely frame be laid,
And kind oblivion close thy doom severe.