"And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height, Her virgin bosom swell; Such thoughts to Lucy I will give While she and I together live Here in this happy dell." Thus Nature spake — The work was done — How soon my Lucy's race was run! She died, and left to me This heath, this calm and quiet scene; The memory of what has been, And never more will be. "A SLUMBER DID MY SPIRIT SEAL." 1799. — 1800. A SLUMBER did my spirit seal; I had no human fears: She seemed a thing that could not feel No motion has she now, no force; With rocks and stones and trees. 40 A POET'S EPITAPH. 1799. 1800. ART thou a Statist, in the van A Lawyer art thou?— draw not nigh! Art thou a Man of purple cheer? Or art thou one of gallant pride, Physician art thou? one all eyes, Wrapt closely in thy sensual fleece, ΙΟ 20 That he below may rest in peace, A Moralist perchance appears; Led, Heaven knows how! to this poor sod: One to whose smooth-rubbed soul can cling Shut close the door; press down the latch; Nor lose ten tickings of thy watch But who is He, with modest looks, He is retired as noontide dew, The outward shows of sky and earth, 30 40 In common things that round us lie That broods and sleeps on his own heart. But he is weak; both man and boy, Hath been an idler in the land ; -Come hither in thy hour of strength; 50 I COME, ye little noisy crew, Not long your pastime to prevent : That can be done, will never fall By night or day, blow foul or fair, Here did he sit confined for hours; ΙΟ Now stretched beneath his grass-green mound 20 He rests a prisoner of the ground. He loved the breathing air, He loved the sun, but if it rise Or set, to him where now he lies, The Dirge which for our Master's sake And yours, love prompted me to make. The rhymes so homely in attire With learned ears may ill agree, But chanted by your Orphan Quire DIRGE. MOURN, shepherd, near thy old gray stone; Thou angler, by the silent flood; And mourn when thou art all alone, Thou woodman, in the distant wood! 30 |