AN ELEGY WRITTEN ON Saint MARK'S Eve.
[3]FRAUGHT with malicious ſtorm a louring cloud
Diſrobes the firmament, that glow'd with light,
While from yon rain-beat porch the raven loud
Uſhers with hideous ſhriek the ſtartled night.
The ſpider ticking from the fretted wall,
And humming beetle ſing their drowſy knell,
The ſightleſs batts a ſhrill aſſembly call,
And dire events in diſmal ſounds foretell.
[4]
To this lone waſte, this dark and dreary vale,
Where mould'ring ſleeps the once-inſpired clay,
(If ſo I read aright the goſſip tale,)
Each deſtin'd ſhade directs its gloomy way.
How ſome the churliſh and rough whirlwind ride
Mingling l've learnt amid the village throng,
Others, like ſailing meteors, nimbly glide,
Or ſtalk ſlow-pac'd the thick-ſtrew'd tombs among.
Each, as her mind preſents the varied ſhape,
With greedy horror tells her heedful friend,
She, o'er the blue and glim'ring lamp agape,
Feels every magic hair to ſtart an end.
Warn'd by that dying flame at length to part
Each trembling gueſt ſlips to her ſeveral bed,
Whilſt I, fond ſwain, bewail a ſlighted heart,
And breathe my ſorrows to the ſenſeleſs dead.
But thou, that haunt'ſt the cloiſter-circled tower,
Echo, I ween, doſt hear my wailing moan,
For ſure as comes this ſad and ſecret hour,
Thy ill-tim'd ſympathy returns each groan.
[5]
Thou too, pale cypreſs, whoſe forewarning leaf
Strews the dull manſions of th' intombed dead,
Say, is it then in friendſhip to my grief
Thou point'ſt where ſoon ſhall reſt this witleſs head?
Yet for thou'rt wont my humble brow to crown,
And eke my pipe thy wreathed bows ſuſtain,
If chance my fate ſhould reach ſome ſhepherd clown
Tell, for you know, the ſtory of my pain.
Nor may thy bark its many a wound abide,
The name which marreth us ſhall ruin thee,
Nor ſhall the wiſe this ſimple talk deride,
Can I find ought more ſtony-deaf than ſhe?
Tho' the proud trunk heaven's full deſpight doth brave,
Nathleſs it yieldeth to the ſubtle wind,
Tho' the rock frown, the patient proſtrate wave
By long aſſault doth ſure admittance find:
Yet ſhe unmov'd my mournful ſigh can hear,
And ſterner than the knotted oak remain,
Yet ſhe remorſeleſs ſees my falling tear,
And leſs than lifeleſs flint regards my pain.
[6]
But ſtrait the ſluggiſh hemlock ſpringing round
Wafts to my ſlumb'ring ſenſe the loaded gale,
While night, who now bad huſh each ruder ſound,
Soft o'er my temples ſpreads her ſable veil.
The balmy influence of long-lacked ſleep
To ſweet oblivion lulls my ſoothed breaſt,
The winds that erſt did laſh that vexed deep,
The ſtorm of raging troubles ſinks to reſt.
O Sleep! how near to death art thou allied!
O Death! what art thou but a longer dream?
Nor wot I of the ill that can betide,
When thou ſo ſtill and ſo ſerene doſt ſeem.
Strange ſights oppreſs my fancy's wakeful eye,
A gaſtly troop of meager ghoſts appear,
There one in penſive plight I do eſpy
To cloſe with uncouth gait the creeping rear.
Oh then! thou ſpirit forlorn, inſtruct me ſoon
Why ſhrinks my ſoul at thy partic'lar ſight,
Say why thou viſit'ſt thus the paly moon
Doubling the native horrors of the night.
[7]
Still in the moſt dejected front I ſee
Some ſtruggling ſpark, ſome faint upholding ray,
Alas! why comes not the ſame hope to thee?
Thy mein is ſadneſs, and thy look diſmay.
At this he waves his head, and ſtrikes his breaſt,
And thrice in piteous ſort he doth aſſay,
The eloquence of woe beſpeaks the reſt,
And ſtops the fault'ring accent on its way.
At length—"I warn thee, mark you cheerleſs train,
"Know, ere this eve returns, to each is given,
"Or to endure the fierce aſſault of pain,
"Or freely tread the ſtar-pav'd courts of heaven.
"See many a faded cheek and furrow'd brow,
"That witneſs dire diſmay, and loſt eſtate,
"What ſoul ſo confident but fears to know
"That righteous ſentence which muſt ſeal its fate?
"The mimic tyrant whoſe contemptuous mind
"Ne'er ſmil'd in pity on the wretch beneath,
"At the laſt hour in ſerious truth ſhall find
"No flattery in the chill embrace of death.
[8]
"Awhile he ſtood in lawleſs pow'r unharm'd;
"What pow'r ſhall ſcreen him at that vengeful time,
"When every eye ſhall wake, each hand be arm'd
"To ſhame his folly, and correct his crime?
"What tho' the pageantry of labor'd woe
"Should bid the marble riſe to ſolemn pride;
"Such the falſe grandeur of its bootleſs ſhew,
"It gilds the glittering ſlave it meant to hide.
"The ruddy ſwain who leaves his quiet ſleep,
"Chiding with early ſong the ling'ring dawn,
"Whoſe ſober care directs the trooping ſheep
"Or to the willowy brook, or paſtur'd lawn,
"To whom, as mindful of his lowly birth,
"Nature an univerſal blank hath given,
"Soon when he quits this dull unfriendly earth,
"Shall reſt approved by the voice of heaven.
"For his poor ſteps would ne'er preſume to tread
"Thoſe much-worn paths where nobler feet had been,
"Dar'd not to follow where they boldly led,
"But left to greater ſouls the privilege to ſin.
[9]
"The charms of wit, the joys of youth ſhall fade,
"And beauty's early bloom ſhall wither'd be,
"A killing blaſt ſhall ſtrike th' unwary maid,
"That heart will bleed, tho' now it tortures thee.
"The noiſe of ſports, the luxury of dreſs,
"All giddy gay deſires ſhall wear away,
"Each ſplendid vanity forget to bleſs,
"And ſhe all wan with waſting grief decay.
"For neither titled fame, nor hoarded wealth,
"Nor beauty's early bloom hath power to ſave,
"Nor ſober induſtry, nor ruddy health
"Can hold one victim from th' untimely grave.
"But idly ſure the needful time we ſpend,
"While as more weighty words I ſhould impart,
"O let thy reaſon's deareſt thought attend,
"And read th' awak'ning leſſon to thine heart.
"Far be thy cuſtom'd place where yonder ſteep
"High over-arch'd ſurveys the diſtant ſtream,
"Think what a giddy height it is to leap,
"Think, and beware, nor ſlight your warning dream.
[10]
"To cleave the yielding unſubſtantial air,—
"To light transfixt upon the pointed rock,—
"O think!—Yet, if thy ſteady ſenſe can dare
"To meet with welcome hail this mortal ſhock,
"Too ſoon thou wilt regret thine evil plight,
"That ſpirit howe'er reſolv'd muſt needs be griev'd,
"When hell's dread regions open to the ſight,
"Regions, which eye ne'er ſaw, nor heart conceiv'd.
"And well I ween the wretch, whoe'er he be,
"That ſwims that gulph ſhall never paſs it more,
"It is a mercileſs and thwarting ſea,
"That ne'er will waft him to the once-left ſhore.
"Then rue the hapleſs while, thou fooliſh ſwain,
"When thou waſt trapped by thoſe witching eyes,
"It is the galled conſcience gives the pain,
"That fell inſatiate worm, that never dies.
"To the groſs mould, from whence it did begin,
"After ſhort time the kindred clay returns,
"While the more active light which ſhines within,
"The unexhauſted lamp for ever burns.
[11]
"That quick'ning portion of the Spirit divine
"Shall ſurely laſt thro' endleſs time to come,
"Nor ſeek her airy motions to confine
"Within the ſhallow limits of the tomb.
"Perchance ſome fury, like this ſcornful fair,
"May haunt thy walks, and every ſtep attend,
"Cloath'd in each frown the ſame ſhe may appear,
"Save this a mortal, that a deathleſs fiend.
"Yet, worthleſs as I am, I do not mean
"With curious and affrontive zeal to pry,
"Where heaven hath drawn its curtain o'er the ſcene,
"And ſhut the clouded proſpect from mine eye.
"This only and important truth I learn,
"When the laſt trump ſhall wake the lazy dead,
"No vain pretence, no trifling fond concern
"Shall rouſe the ſhrouded ſinner from his bed.
"Hence then, and mingle in the mirthful train,
"With them reſume thy long-neglected crook,
"Awake to ſprightly ſtop the pipe again,
"Cheer thy ſad heart, and ſmooth thy love-worn look.
[12]
"If ſo thine hallow'd ſoul thou e'er didſt love,
"As heaven in gentle mercy leans to thee,
"If there be damn'd below, or ſaints above,
"If thou art mock'd of her, or mourn'd of me,
"If ought can move thee—fly the wily ſnare
"That may ſeduce thee to this fearful end,"
(When ſtrait diſſolving in the viewleſs air)
"Awake!" he cries, "beſtir thee, and amend!"
FINIS.