DEATH:

DEATH : BY CHARLES EMILY , ESQ . I. THE festive roar of laughter , the warm glow Of brisk-ey'd joy , and friendship's genial bowl . Wit's season'd converse , and the liberal flow Of unsuspicious youth , profuse of soul , Delight not ever ; from the boisterous scene Of riot far , and Comus' wild uproar , From folly's crowd , whose vacant brow serene Was never knit to wisdom's srowning lore , Permit me , ye time-hallow'd domes , ye piles Of rude magnificence , your solemn rest , Amid your fretted vaults and length'ning isles , Lonely to wander ; no unholy guest , That means to break , with sacrilegious tread , The marble slumbers of your monumented dead . II . Permit me with sad musings , that inspire Unlabour'd numbers apt , your silence drear Blameless to wake , and with th' Orphean lyre Fitly attemper'd , sooth the merciless ear Of Hades , and stern death , whose iron sway Great nature owns thro' all her wide domain ; All that with oary sin cleave their smooth way Through the green bosom of the spawny main , And those that to the streaming aether spread , In many a wheeling glide , their feathery sail ; And those that creep ; and those that statelier tread , That roam o'er forest , hill , or browsed dale ; The victims each of ruthless fate must fall ; E'en God's own image , man , high paramount of all . III . And ye , the young , the giddy , and the gay , That startle from the sleepful lid of light The curtain'd rest , and with the dissonant bray Of Bacchus , and loud jollity , affright Yon radiant goddess , that now shoots among These many windowed isles her glimmering beam ; Know , that or e'er its starr'd career along Thrice shall have roll'd her silvery-wheeled team , Some parent breast may heave the answering sigh , To the slow pauses of the funeral knoll ; E'en now black Atropos , with scowling eye , Roars in the laugh , and revels o'er the bowl , E'en now in rosy-crowned pleasure's wreath Entwines in adder folds all-unsuspected Death . IV Know , on the stealing wing of time shall flee Some few , some short-liv'd years ; and all is past ; A future bard these awful domes may see , Muse o'er the present age as I the last ; Who mouldering in the grave , yet once like you ; The various maze of life were seen to tread , Each bent their own peculiar to pursue , As custom urg'd or wilful nature led ; Mix'd with the various crouds inglorious clay , The nobler virtues undistinguish'd lie ; No more to melt with beauty's heav'n-born ray , No more to wet compassion's tearful eye , Catch from the poet raptures not their own , And feel the thrilling melody of sweet renown . V. Where is the master-hand , whose semblant art Chissel'd the marble into life , or taught From the well-pencill'd portraiture to start The nerve that beat with soul , the brow that thought ! Cold are the fingers that in stone-sixt trance The mute attention rivetting , to the lyre Struck language : dimm'd the poet's quick-ey'd glance . All in wild raptures flashing heaven's own fire . Shrunk is the sinew'd energy , that strung The warrior arm : where sleeps the patriot breast Whilom that heav'd impassion'd ! Where the tongue That lanc'd its lightning on the towering crest Of scepter'd insolence , and overthrew Giant Oppression , leagued with all her earth-born crew ! VI . These now are past ; long , long , ye fleeting years , Pursue , with glory wing'd , your fated way , Ere from the womb of time unwelcome peers The dawn of that inevitable day , When wrapt in shrouded clay their warmest friend The widow'd virtues shall again deplore , When o'er his urn in pious grief shall bend His Britain , and bewail one patriot more ; For soon must thou , too soon ! who spreadst abroad Thy beaming emanations unconfin'd , Doom'd , like some better angel sent of God To scatter blessings over humankind , Thou too must fall , O Pitt ! to shine no more , And tread these dreadful paths , a Faulkland trod before . VII . Fast to the driving winds the marshall'd clouds Sweep discontinuous o'er the etherial plain ; Another still upon another crouds , All hastening downward to their native main . Thus passes o'er thro' varied life's career Man's fleeting age ; the Seasons as they fly Snatch from us in their course , year after year , Some sweet connection , some endearing tie . The parent , ever-honour'd , ever-dear , Claims from the filial breast the pious sigh ; A brother's urn demands the kindred tear ; And gentle sorrows gush from friendship's eye . To-day we frolick in the rosy bloom Of jocund youth — The morrow knells us to the tomb . VIII . Who knows how soon in this sepulchral spot , Shall heaven to me the drear abode assign ! How soon the past irrevocable lot Of these , that rest beneath me , shall be mine . Haply , when Zephyr to thy native bourn Shall waft thee o'er the storm'd Hibernian wave , Thy gentle breast , my Tavistock Francis , Marquis of Tavistock , only son to the Duke of Bedford . His death , which happened on the 22d of March , 1767 , was occasioned by a fall from his horse a few days before . Mr. Emily was Fellow of Trinity-College , Cambridge , and had been Tutor to the Marquis . He died in the year 1762 , being then major of the Surry militia . , shall mourn To find me sleeping in the senseless grave . No more the social leisure to divide , In the sweet intercourse of soul and soul , Blithe or of graver brow ; no more to chide The ling'ring years impatient as they roll , Till all thy cultur'd virtues shall display , Full blossom'd , their bright honours to the gazing day . IX . Ah , dearest youth ! these vows perhaps unheard , The rude wind scatters o'er the billowy main ; These prayers at friendship's holy shrine preferr'd May rise to grasp their father's knees in vain . Soon , soon may nod the sad funereal plume With solemn horror o'er thy timeless hearse , And I survive to grave upon thy tomb The mournful tribute of memorial verse . — That leave to heaven's decision — Be it thine , Higher than yet a parent's wishes flew , To soar in bright pre-eminence , and shine With self-earn'd honours , eager to pursue , Where glory , with her clear unsully'd rays , The well-born spirit lights to deeds of mightiest praise . X. 'Twas she thy God-like Russell's bosom steel'd With confidence untam'd , in his last breath Stern-smiling . She , with calm composure , held The patriot axe of Sidney , edg'd with death . Smit with the warmth of her impulsive flame , Wolfe's gallant virtue flies to worlds a-far , Emulous to pluck fresh wreaths of well-earn'd fame From the grim frowning brow of laurel'd war . 'Twas she , that on the morn of direful birth , Bared thy young bosom to the fatal blow , Lamented Armytage Sir John Armytage , Member of Parliament for the City of York , who was killed at St. Cas , in the year 1758. ! — the bleeding youth ! O bathe him in the pearly caves below , Ye Nereids ; and ye Nymphs of Camus hoar , Weep — for ye oft have seen him on your haunted shore . XI . Better to die with glory , than recline On the soft lap of ignominious peace , Than yawn out the dull droning life supine In monkish apathy and gowned ease . Better employ'd in honour's bright career The least division on the dial's round , Than thrice to compass Saturn's live-long year , Grown old in sloth , the burthen of the ground ; Than tug with sweating toil the slavish oar Of unredeem'd affliction , and sustain The fev'rous rage of fierce diseases sore Unnumber'd , that in sympathetic chain Hang ever thro' the thick circumfluous air , All from the drizzly verge of yonder star-girt sphere . XII . Thick in the many-beaten road of life , A thousand maladies are posted round , With wretched man to wage eternal strife Unseen , like ambush'd Indians , till they wound . There the swol'n hydrop stands , the wat'ry rheum , The northern scurvy , blotch with lep'rous scale ; And moping ever in the cloister'd gloom Of learned sloth , the bookish asthma pale : And the shunn'd hag unsightly , that ordain'd On Europe's sons to wreak the faithless sword Of Cortez , with the blood of millions stain'd , O'er dog-ey'd lust the tort'ring scourge abhorr'd , Shakes threat'ning ; since the while she wing'd her flight From Amazon's broad wave , and Andes' snow-clad height . XIII . Where the wan daughter of the yellow year , The chatt'ring ague chill , the writhing stone , And he of ghastly feature , on whose ear Unheeded croaks the death-bird's warning moan , Marasmus ; knotty gout ; and the dead life Of nerveless palsy ; there on purpose fell Dark brooding , whets his interdicted knife Grim suicide , the damned fiend of hell . There too is the stunn'd apoplexy pight Placed . , The bloated child of gorg'd intemperance foul ; Self-wasting melancholy , black as night Lowering , and foaming fierce with hideous howl The dog hydrophoby , and near allied Scar'd madness , with her moon-struck eye-balls staring wide . XIV . There , stretch'd one huge , beneath the rocky mine Alluding to the earthquake at Lisbon . , With boiling sulphur fraught , and smouldering fires ; He , the dread delegate of wrath divine , E'er while that stood o'er Taio's hundred spires Vindictive ; thrice he wav'd th' earth-shaking wand , Powerful as that the son of Amram bore , And thrice he rais'd , and thrice he check'd his hand . He struck the rocking ground , with thund'rous roar Yawn'd ; here from street to street hurries , and there Now runs , now stops , then shrieks and scours amain , Staring distraction : many a palace fair , With millions sinks ingulpht , and pillar'd fane ; Old Ocean's farthest waves confest the shock ; Even Albion trembled conscious on his stedfast rock . XV. The meagre famine there , and drunk with blood Stern war ; and the loath'd monster , whom of yore The slimy Naiad of the Memphian flood Engend'ring , to the bright-hair'd Phoebus bore , Foul pestilence , that on the wide-stretch'd wings Of commerce speeds from Cairo's swarthy bay His westering flight , and thro' the sick air flings Spotted contagion ; at his heels dismay And desolation urge their fire-wheel'd yoke Terrible ; as long of old , when from the height Of Paran came unwrath'd the Mightiest , shook Earth's firm fixt base tottering ; thro' the black night Glanc'd the flash'd lightnings : heavens rent roof abroad Thunder'd ; and universal nature felt its God . XVI . Who on that scene of terror , on that hour Of roused indignation , shall withstand Th' Almighty , when he meditates to shower The bursting vengeance o'er a guilty land ! Canst thou , secure in reason's vaunted pride , Tongue-doughty miscreant , who but now didst gore . With more than Hebrew rage the innocent side Of agonizing mercy , bleeding sore , Canst thou confront , with stedfast eye unaw'd , The sworded judgment stalking far and near ? Well may'st thou tremble , when an injur'd God Disclaims thee — guilt is ever quick of fear — Loud whirlwinds howl in zephyr's softest breath ; And ev'ry glancing meteor glares imagin'd death . XVII . The good alone are fearless — they alone Firm and collected in their virtue , brave The wreck of worlds , and look unshrinking down On the dread yawnings of the rav'nous grave : Thrice happy ! who the blameless road along Of honest praise hath reach'd the vale of death ; Around him , like ministrant cherubs , throng His better actions ; to the parting breath Singing their blessed requiems : he the while Gently reposing on some friendly breast , Breathes out his benizons ; then with a smile Of soft complacence , lays him down to rest , Calm as the slumbering infant : from the goal Free and unbounded flies the disembodied soul . XVIII . Whether some delegated charge below , Some much-lov'd friend its hovering care may claim , Whether it heavenward soars , again to know That long-forgotten country whence it came ; Conjecture ever , the misfeatur'd child Of letter'd arrogance , delights to run Thro' speculation's puzzling mazes wild , And all to end at last where it begun . Fain would we trace , with reason's erring clue , The darksome paths of destiny aright ; In vain ; the task were easier to pursue The trackless wheelings of the swallow's flight . From mortal ken himself the Almighty shrouds Pavilion'd in thick night and circumambient clouds .