Classic Poem

On the Death of a Reverend Friend : Addressed toi Mrs . A — — N .

S AY — should the lyre remain unstrung —
And, lost to eloquence, the tongue
Attempt no plaintive strain?
When numbers can the force controul
Of pointed grief that wrings the soul,
And sooth the hour of pain.

'Tis Friendship lists the glowing eye!
She calls the powers of harmony
Around her lonesome cell;
She woos the pensive muse to sing,
And strikes, with trembling hand, the string —
To sound the sad — farewel:

Farewel! — accept the fault'ring lay;
If, ling'ring near the dormant clay,
Thy timid spirit tries —
In faint, imperfect modes of flight
Its force, — nor yet enwrapt in light
Expatiates in the skies.

Farewel — blest shade! — too early fled!
In these drear mansions of the dead
Despondent Friendship mourns:
The hallow'd walls and caverns, round,
Return the melancholy sound:
The gale her voice returns:

Fear startles at the midnight gale —
All mournful murm'ring down the vale
In strains of mimic woe!
While ruthless grief her aid supplies —
And prompts the momentary sighs,
And prompts the tears to flow.

But who, at this sequester'd hour,
Beneath the ivy-mantled tower
Hangs o'er the recent tomb?
'Tis sad Constantia; — sunk in grief
Her harrass'd soul, disdains relief,
And seeks the shelt'ring gloom:

With heart-corroding woes opprest,
Maternal anguish wrings her breast,
And swells her tearless eye:
Be dumb my cares, — shall I complain?
Constantia mark the soothing strain,
That Friendship bids me try.

Enough to ruthless grief is given:
Lo! beamy Hope, descends from heaven,
In native glory bright!
Deck'd in the panoply of love —
Calm gliding thro' the cypress grove,
She radiates on the sight!

And now she points, thro' Faith, the road,
Where Spirits — bless'd, unite with God
When time shall be no more!
She shows the intermediate space,
Where all the favor'd sons of grace —
In trembling hope adore.