Classic Poem

From a moist bank, beneath a silent shade,
Whose dark'ning arch depending willows made,
A death-devoted youth, in day's cool dawn,
Weary of insults , and, from woes , withdrawn.
Long, on the sullen surface , fix'd his view ,
And sigh'd — resolv'd to bid loath'd life adieu .

'Tis but to plunge , he cry'd, one moment, there ,
Saves me from sorrow , and out-leaps despair .
Cover'd, with calmness, in this lulling bed,
No fear shall reach my heart , no pain , my head:
Terror , and shame , and want , shall, with me, die ,
And anguish be no more alive, than I .

Yet, one dear mourner will my death distress ,
Whom I would live for, could I live, to bless!
Her tears are tortures , which I cannot bear;
Her charms give madness , and her wants despair .

Just, at this word, the dear distruster came:
Pierc'd the deep gloom , and catch'd the fatal aim .
Trembling, with horror , yet, by love , impell'd,
Timely, she grasp'd him; and, convulsive , held:
Ah! let me keep thee, tho' we beg , she cry'd;
Life has no want, but what's, by love , supply'd:
Wretched, with thee, there's recompence, in pain ,
And bless'd, without thee, I were bless'd, in vain.
Hope, suffer, think, resolve, submit, contend:
Move every foe — sollicit every friend!
Die not , thus young — e'er half our days are past,
Love has long years to come: death pulls too fast.
I will not feel distress, while you are kind;
Nor bear a joyless world, you leave behind.

See! be advis'd: turn, there , your hopeless eye,
View those sweet rising shades, that spread so nigh.
Think , did their royal planter hear my pray'r,
How would she pity my poor heart's despair!
She , the best wife , best mother, daughter, queen!
Ah! that she, now , beheld this dreadful scene!
Think on her smiles — and do but live, to try!
And, if that hope proves vain — I , too, will die .