Classic Poem

TO VIRGIL. A CONSOLATORY ADDRESS .

Why check the full outburst of sorrow? Why blush
To weep for the friend we adored?
Raise the voice of lament! let the swollen tear gush!
Bemoan thee, Melpomene, loudly! nor hush
The sound of thy lute's liquid chord!
For low lies Quinctilius, tranced in that sleep
That issue hath none, nor sequel.
Let Candour, with all her white sisterhood, weep—
Truth, Meekness, and Justice, his memory keep—
For when shall they find his equal?
Though the wise and the good may bewail him, yet none
O'er his clay sheds the tear more truly
Than you, beloved Virgil! You deemed him your own:
You mourn his companionship—'Twas but a loan,
Which the gods have withdrawn unduly.
Yet not though Eurydice's lover had left
Thee a legacy, friend, of his song!
Could'st thou warm the cold image of life-blood bereft,
Or force death, who robbed thee, to render the theft,
Or bring back his shade from the throng,
Which Mercury guides with imperative wand,
To the banks of the fatal ferry.—
'Tis hard to endure;—but 'tis wrong to despond:
For patience may deaden the blow, though beyond
Thy power, my friend, to parry.