ELEGY II. Samuel Whyte Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1137 K093079.004 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. IV. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 255-260. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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ELEGY II . BY THE SAME . WHEN , young , life's journey I began , The glittering prospect charm'd my eyes , I saw along th' extended plan Joy after joy successive rise : And Fame her golden trumpet blew ; And Power display'd her gorgeous charms ; And Wealth engag'd my wandering view ; And Pleasure woo'd me to her arms : To each by turns my vows I paid , As Folly led me to admire ; While Fancy magnified each shade , And Hope increas'd each fond desire : But soon I found 'twas all a dream ; And learn'd the fond pursuit to shun , Where few can reach their purpos'd aim , And thousands daily are undone : And Fame , I found , was empty air ; And Wealth had Terror for her guest ; And Pleasure's path was strewn with care ; And Power was vanity at best . Tir'd of the chace , I gave it o'er ; And , in a far sequester'd shade , To Contemplation's sober power My youth's next services I paid . There Health and Peace adorn'd the scene ; And oft , indulgent to my prayer , With mirthful eye and frolic mien , The Muse would deign to visit there : There would she oft delighted rove The slower-enamell'd vale along ; Or wander with me thro' the grove , And listen to the woodlark's song ; Or , 'mid the forest's awful gloom , Whilst wild amazement fill'd my eyes , Recal past ages from the tomb , And bid ideal worlds arise . Thus in the Muse's favour blest , One wish alone my soul could frame , And Heaven bestow'd , to crown the rest , A friend , and Thyrsis was his name . For manly constancy , and truth , And worth , unconscious of a stain , He bloom'd the flower of Britain's youth , The boast and wonder of the plain . Still with our years our friendship grew ; No cares did then my peace destroy ; Time brought new blessings as he flew , And every hour was wing'd with joy . But soon the blissful scene was lost , Soon did the sad reverse appear ; Love came , like an untimely frost , To blast the promise of my year . I saw young Daphne's angel-form , ( Fool that I was , I bless'd the smart ) And , while I gaz'd , nor thought of harm , The dear infection seiz'd my heart . She was — at least in Damon's eyes — Made up of loveliness and grace , Her heart a stranger to disguise , Her mind as perfect as her face : To hear her speak , to see her move , ( Unhappy I , alas ! the while ) Her voice was joy , her look was love , And Heaven was open'd in her smile ! She heard me breathe my amorous prayers , She listen'd to the tender strain , She heard my sighs , she saw my tears , And seem'd at length to share my pain : She said she lov'd — and I , poor youth ! ( How soon , alas , can Hope persuade ! ) Thought all she said no more than truth , And all my love was well repaid . In joys unknown to courts or kings , With her I sate the live-long day , And said and look'd such tender things , As none beside could look or say ! How soon can Fortune shift the scene , And all our earthly bliss destroy ? Care hovers round , and Grief's fell train Still treads upon the heels of Joy . My age's hope , my youth's best boast , My soul's chief blessing , and my pride , In one sad moment all were lost , And Daphne chang'd , and Thyrsis died . O who , that heard her vows ere-while , Could dream these vows were insincere ? Or who could think , that saw her smile , That fraud could find admittance there ? Yet she was false — my heart will break ! Her frauds , her perjuries were such — Some other tongue than mine must speak — I have not power to say how much ! Ye swains , hence warn'd , avoid the bait , O shun her paths , the traitress shun ! Her voice is death , her smile is fate , Who hears , or sees her , is undone . And , when Death's hand shall close my eye , ( For soon , I know , the day will come ) O chear my spirit with a sigh , And grave these lines upon my tomb !
THE EPITAPH . Consign'd to dust , beneath this stone , In manhood's prime is Damon laid ; Joyless he liv'd , and dy'd unknown In bleak misfortune's barren shade . Lov'd by the Muse , but lov'd in vain — 'Twas beauty drew his ruin on ; He saw young Daphne on the plain ; He lov'd , believ'd , and was undone . His heart then sunk beneath the storm , ( Sad meed of unexampled truth ) And sorrow , like an cnvious worm , Devour'd the blossom of his youth . Beneath this stone the youth is laid — O greet his ashes with a tear ! May Heaven with blessings crown his shade , And grant that peace he wanted here !