The shadowy cloud; there downward pours, 200
Streaming direct, a flood of day,
Which from the view flies swift away;
It flies, while other shades advance,
And other streaks of sunshine glance.
Thus chequered is the life below
With gleams of joy and clouds of woe.
Then hope not, while we journey on,
Still to be basking in the sun :
Nor fear, though now in shades ye mourn,
That sunshine will no more return.
If, by your terrors overcome,
Ye fly before th' approaching gloom,
The rapid clouds your flight pursue,
And darkness still o'ercasts your view.
Who longs to reach the radiant plain
Must onward urge his course amain;
For doubly swift the shadow flies,
When 'gainst the gale the pilgrim plies.
At least be firm, and undismayed
Maintain your ground; the fleeting shade
Ere long spontaneous glides away,
And gives you back th' enlivening ray.'
Lo, while I speak, our danger past!
No more the shrill horn's angry blast
Howls in our ear; the savage roar
Of war and murder is no more.
Then snatch the moment fate allows,
Nor think of past or future woes."
He spoke; and hope revives; the lake
That instant one and all forsake,
In sweet amusement to employ
The present sprightly hour of joy.
Now from the western mountain's brow,
Compassed with clouds of various glow,
The Sun a broader orb displays,
And shoots aslope his ruddy rays.
The lawn assumes a fresher green,
And dew-drops spangle all the scene;
The balmy zephyr breathes along,
The shepherd sings his tender song,
With all their lays the groves resound,
And falling waters murmur round.
Discord and care were put to flight,
And all was peace, and calm delight.
BEING PART OF AN INSCRIPTION DESIGNED FOR A
MONUMENT ERECTED BY A GENTLEMAN
TO THE MEMORY OF HIS LADY.
AREWELL! my best-beloved; whose heavenly mind
Genius with virtue, strength with soft
Devotion, undebased by pride or art,
With meek simplicity, and joy of heart;
Though sprightly, gentle; though polite, sincere :
And only of thyself a judge severe;
Unblamed, unequalled in each sphere of life,
The tenderest daughter, sister, parent, wife.
In thee their patroness th' afflicted lost ;
Thy friends, their pattern, ornament, and boast;
And I—but ah, can words my loss declare,
Or paint th' extremes of transport and despair!
O thou, beyond what verse or speech can tell,—
My guide, my friend, my best beloved, farewell!
T the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,
And mortals the sweets of forgetful
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill,
And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove:
'Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar,
While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit began;
No more with himself or with nature at war,
He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.
"Ah! why, all abandoned to darkness and woe,
Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall?
For spring shall return, and a lover bestow,
And sorrow no longer thy bosom enthrall.
But if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay,
Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to
O soothe him, whose pleasures like thine pass
Full quickly they pass-but they never return.
"Now gliding remote, on the verge of the sky, The Moon half-extinguished her crescent displays: But lately I marked, when majestic on high
She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue The path that conducts thee to splendour again: But man's faded glory what change shall renew? Ah, fool! to exult in a glory so vain!
""Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more: I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew;
Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn;
Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save:
But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn?
O when shall it dawn on the night of the grave?"
""Twas thus, by the glare of false science betrayed, That leads, to bewilder, and dazzles, to blind, My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade,
Destruction before me, and sorrow behind.
"O pity, great Father of light,' then I cried,
Thy creature, who fain would not wander from
Thee;
Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride: From doubt and from darkness Thou only canst free.'
“And darkness and doubt are now flying away;
No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn.
So breaks on the traveller, faint, and astray,
The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn.
See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumph descending,
And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom!
On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are
blending,
And Beauty immortal awakes from the tomb."
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