[Footnote xiii:
"As speakers, each supports a rival name, Though neither seeks to d.a.m.n the other"s fame, Pomposus sits, unequal to decide, With youthful candour, we the palm divide."--
["P. on V. Occasions"]]
[Footnote xiv:
"Yet in the retrospection finds relief, And revels in the luxury of grief."--
["P. on V. Occasions."]]
[Footnote xv:
"When, yet a novice in the mimic art, I feign"d the transports of a vengeful heart; When, as the Royal Slave, I trod the stage, To vent in Zanga, more than mortal rage; The praise of Probus, made me feel more proud, Than all the plaudits of the list"ning crowd.
Ah! vain endeavour in this childish strain To soothe the woes of which I thus complain!
What can avail this fruitless loss of time, To measure sorrow, in a jingling rhyme!
No social solace from a friend, is near, And heartless strangers drop no feeling tear.
I seek not joy in Woman"s sparkling eye, The smiles of Beauty cannot check the sigh.
Adieu, thou world! thy pleasure"s still a dream, Thy virtue, but a visionary theme; Thy years of vice, on years of folly roll, Till grinning death a.s.signs the destin"d goal,"
"Where all are hastening to the dread abode, To meet the judgment of a righteous G.o.d; Mix"d in the concourse of a thoughtless throng, A mourner, midst of mirth, I glide along; A wretched, isolated, gloomy thing, Curst by reflection"s deep corroding sting; But not that mental sting, which stabs within, The dark avenger of unpunish"d sin; The silent shaft, which goads the guilty wretch Extended on a rack"s untiring stretch: Conscience that sting, that shaft to him supplies-- His mind the rack, from which he ne"er can rise, For me, whatever my folly, or my fear, One cheerful comfort still is cherish"d here.
No dread internal, haunts my hours of rest, No dreams of injured innocence infest; Of hope, of peace, of almost all bereft, Conscience, my last but welcome guest, is left.
Slander"s empoison"d breath, may blast my name, Envy delights to blight the buds of fame: Deceit may chill the current of my blood, And freeze affection"s warm impa.s.sion"d flood; Presaging horror, darken every sense, Even here will conscience be my best defence; My bosom feeds no "worm which ne"er can die:"
Not crimes I mourn, but happiness gone by.
Thus crawling on with many a reptile vile, My heart is bitter, though my cheek may smile; No more with former bliss, my heart is glad; Hope yields to anguish and my soul is sad; From fond regret, no future joy can save; Remembrance slumbers only in the grave."
["P. on V. Occasions"]]
[Footnote xvi:
"The song might perish, but the theme must live."
["Hours of Idleness."]]
[Footnote xvii:
"----his venom"d tooth."
["Hours of Idleness".]]
ANSWER TO A BEAUTIFUL POEM, WRITTEN BY MONTGOMERY, AUTHOR OF "THE WANDERER OF SWITZERLAND," ETC., ENt.i.tLED "THE COMMON LOT." [1]
1.
Montgomery! true, the common lot Of mortals lies in Lethe"s wave; Yet some shall never be forgot, Some shall exist beyond the grave.
2.
"Unknown the region of his birth,"
The hero [2] rolls the tide of war; Yet not unknown his martial worth, Which glares a meteor from afar.
3.
His joy or grief, his weal or woe, Perchance may "scape the page of fame; Yet nations, now unborn, will know The record of his deathless name.
4.
The Patriot"s and the Poet"s frame Must share the common tomb of all: Their glory will not sleep the same; "That" will arise, though Empires fall.
5.
The l.u.s.tre of a Beauty"s eye a.s.sumes the ghastly stare of death; The fair, the brave, the good must die, And sink the yawning grave beneath.
6.
Once more, the speaking eye revives, Still beaming through the lover"s strain; For Petrarch"s Laura still survives: She died, but ne"er will die again.
7.
The rolling seasons pa.s.s away, And Time, untiring, waves his wing; Whilst honour"s laurels ne"er decay, But bloom in fresh, unfading spring.
8.
All, all must sleep in grim repose, Collected in the silent tomb; The old, the young, with friends and foes, Fest"ring alike in shrouds, consume.
9.