Classic Poem

Why will soft sorrow thus o'erwhelm my soul,
And heart-felt anguish ev'ry thought control?
To scenes of woe why will the muse retire,
And cull sad-sounding accents for the lyre?
What shade neglected asks the gentle tear,
To bathe in grief the long forgotten bier?

'Tis Grew descends unheeded to the grave,
With no libation of Castalia's wave.
What tho' the theme transcends my artless lays,
The muse shall swell her numbers in thy praise:
The murm'ring streams shall echo to the sound,
And groves responsive spread the strains around ;
Slow winds shall bear the heavy notes along,
And distant hills return the mournful song.

T'enlarge the soul, and clear the dubious mind,
T'unfold celestial wonders to mankind,
To stamp bright knowledge on thy youthful care,
With sweet persuasion and endearing air,
With gentle manners to entice the heart,
Was once thy happy and peculiar art.
But snatch'd, alas! to yon immortal plains,
Where glorious angels hymn seraphic strains;
High where yon beamy orbs, resplendent, glow,
He drops a tear for this sad world below.
But Grew , thy planets downward shall be hurl'd,
And wild confusion sink a guilty world;
E'en time's white fore-lock shall in chains be bound,
Earth melt to dross, and Cynthia cease her round.
Then shall oblivion blast the hero's fame,
The pomp of monarchs, and the poet's flame ;
Then thy good name with matter's self shall blend,
Forgot the father, husband, and the friend.

Quick as the shuttle fly all human things,
Time wafts us rapid on his fleeting wings;
Soon shall the swain that tunes this plaintive lyre,
Kiss the cold earth, and all his flame expire;
Then may some muse, by tender pity mov'd,
Moan in soft elegy the youth she lov'd.
Yet blooming virtue shall triumphant rise,
Spurn the dull earth, and gain her native skies;
Then shall the just with holy raptures fir'd,
With charms transported, and with God inspir'd,
Strike their gold harps, and wake the lofty chord,
In joyful chorus round th' eternal Lord !

Oh! may my soul by thy example warm'd,
With Virtue's rules, and Virtue's sons be charm'd;
Regard them tho' they shine in humble state,
Far from the glitter of the wealthy great.
Blest man, in counsel as in sense profound,
True to thy trust, and ever blameless found;
Stranger to strife, a noble mind confest,
No raging discord harbour'd in thy breast;
Peaceful thou walk'd this wild of " weeds and flow'rs, "
Where envy hisses, and blind fortune show'rs;
Where systems endless frantic zeal inspire,
Warm youth they madden, and cold age they fire.
Led by no man, thou follow'd Nature's laws,
And trusted in the one unerring cause !

Thus pass'd thy footsteps thro' this mazy round
Whilst thy wing'd genius soar'd to worlds around ;
Till grisly death with darkness clos'd thy eyes,
And angels snatch'd thy spirit to the skies !
But G OD is wise — then, to his righteous sway,
Submit, my muse, and cease thy plaintive lay.