The eddying winds along the shore
Clash rudely with opposing rage
Where never mortal touch'd before,
Save the far-wandering Grecian sage.
By ocean's hoar-fermenting foam,
Darkly lowers the airy dome;
By brown substantial darkness wall'd
Whence bold Ulysses shrunk appall'd;
Where ghosts, half seen by glances dim,
With shadowy feet the pavement skim.
But soon the feeble-shrieking dead
Are scatter'd by the Gorgon's head;
Whose withering look, so wan and cold,
No frame can bear of mortal mould;
While snaky wreaths of living hair,
With crests red-curling, writhe in air.
Anon, with sound confus'd and shrill,
The thin embodied forms decay;
And, like the gray mist of the hill,
The airy mansion fleets away. —
When Phantasy transports the scene,
Where glows the starry sky serene ;
And then I seem in wild vagary,
Roving with the restless fairy;
Round and round the turning sphere,
To chase the moon-beam glancing clear.
Where ocean's oozy arms extend,
There our gliding course we bend;
Our right feet brush the billows hoar,
Our left imprint the sandy shore ;
While mermaids comb their sea-green locks
By moonlight on the shelving rocks.
But while these scenes I pleas'd survey,
They vanish slow with giddy hum,
And visions rise, of dire dismay,
That Fancy's plastic power benumb.
The last dread trumpet stuns the ear
Which central nature groans to hear;
And seems to shrink with rueful throes,
To see her ancient offspring's woes. —
Quick start to life the astonish'd dead;
Old heroes heave the helmed head;
Again the sons of war return;
No more their red-flam'd eye-balls burn;
While scroll-shrunk skies around them blaze,
In mute despair around they gaze;
Then frightful shrieks the welkin rive—
As I, with rapture, wake alive. —
Avaunt! ye empty notes of joy,
Ye vain delusive sounds of mirth;
No pleasure's here without alloy,
No room for happiness on earth.
To calm my breast's impatient glow,
Arise
ye scenes of fancied woe!
That I may relish while they stay
Such joys as quickly fleet away.
And still let Phantasy renew
Her antic groups of sombre hue,
Where every unconnected scene
Combines to rouse emotions keen,
And far transcending judgment's law,
Astounds the wondering breast with awe :—
Till all this dream of life be o'er
And I awake to sleep no more.
As o'er the downs expanding silver-gray
You pass, dear friend, your altered form I view
Diminish'd to a shadow dim and blue,
As oft I turn to gaze with fond delay.
Alas that youthful friendships thus decay!
While fame or fortune's dizzy heights we scale,
Or through the mazy windings of the vale
Of busy life pursue our separate way. —
Too soon by nature's rigid laws we part,
Too soon the moments of affection fly,
Nor from the grave shall one responsive sigh Breathe soft to soothe the sad survivor's heart!
Ah! that when life's brief course so soon is o'er,
We e'er should friendship's broken tie deplore.
AN OLD MAN DYING FRIENDLESS.
To thee, thou pallid form, o'er whose wan cheek
The downy blossoms of the grave are shed!
To thee the crumbling earth and clay-cold bed
Of joys supreme, instead of sorrows, speak.
Deep in the silent grave thou soon shalt rest;
Nor e'er shalt hear beneath the ridgy mould
The howling blast, in hollow murmurs cold,
That sweeps by fits relentless o'er thy breast!
No warm eye glistens with the dewy tear
For thee, no tongue that breathes to heaven the
No hand to wipe the death-drops from thy brow, No looks of love thy fainting soul to cheer!
go, forlorn! to thee it must be sweet
Thy long-lost friends beyond the grave to meet.
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