Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Monody.
' Nature s favourite son is fled , Nor longer . now the mimic art Sweet-thrilling raptures can impart , For Palmer , Palmer ' s dead ! ' As erst at-Athens , when in youthful prime , Thought soar'd on thoughtand reach'd the vast sublime
, , When my proud skill Oppos'd each passion ' s will ; When ev ' ry powerful touch of art Struck the firm chords that brace the human heart , And rais'd it up to love , Or sunk it down to fear ;
Inspir'd the sweetness of the dove , The terrors of the deer : Urg'd mad Ambition ' s furious flight , O ' erwhelm'd him in the shades of night , And check'd his wild career .
'As erstat Athens , when the sacred Nine With holy vigour strung each nervous linej Mid all the lustre of my reign , When heroes fill'd my train , Thus Palmer us'd my power . 'Twas his to rouze the torpid breast , To lull the wearied soul to rest
, And soothe the sadden'd hour . ' Palmer divinel y knew to move Each tender thought of anxious love , To draw the speaking tear : He knew to raise each furious passion ' s sway , Or quell its phrensied power , and every storm allay .
' Such Palmer was , but now for ever fled , He claims a mansion from the peaceful dead ; From Life's rough sea with sudden terror hurl'd , He seeks " another and a better world ! ' '
Thalia too must mourn , Must shade her smiling face with sorrow ' s veil ; And as the lucid drops her cheeks bedew , Sweet flow ' rets o ' er the green sod strew ; Breathe a soft si gh upon each passing gale That sweeps his hallovv'd urn-And see ! the lovelGoddess
herey , The Jight-rob'd maiden trips along : ' And is he gone ? ' she cries-r- ' alas , my fear ! Gone ! gone ! for ever gone ! the livel y throng , No more enraptur'd with his smile , Forego each artless wile , Nor longer with blythe joy the fleeting hours beguile .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Monody.
' Nature s favourite son is fled , Nor longer . now the mimic art Sweet-thrilling raptures can impart , For Palmer , Palmer ' s dead ! ' As erst at-Athens , when in youthful prime , Thought soar'd on thoughtand reach'd the vast sublime
, , When my proud skill Oppos'd each passion ' s will ; When ev ' ry powerful touch of art Struck the firm chords that brace the human heart , And rais'd it up to love , Or sunk it down to fear ;
Inspir'd the sweetness of the dove , The terrors of the deer : Urg'd mad Ambition ' s furious flight , O ' erwhelm'd him in the shades of night , And check'd his wild career .
'As erstat Athens , when the sacred Nine With holy vigour strung each nervous linej Mid all the lustre of my reign , When heroes fill'd my train , Thus Palmer us'd my power . 'Twas his to rouze the torpid breast , To lull the wearied soul to rest
, And soothe the sadden'd hour . ' Palmer divinel y knew to move Each tender thought of anxious love , To draw the speaking tear : He knew to raise each furious passion ' s sway , Or quell its phrensied power , and every storm allay .
' Such Palmer was , but now for ever fled , He claims a mansion from the peaceful dead ; From Life's rough sea with sudden terror hurl'd , He seeks " another and a better world ! ' '
Thalia too must mourn , Must shade her smiling face with sorrow ' s veil ; And as the lucid drops her cheeks bedew , Sweet flow ' rets o ' er the green sod strew ; Breathe a soft si gh upon each passing gale That sweeps his hallovv'd urn-And see ! the lovelGoddess
herey , The Jight-rob'd maiden trips along : ' And is he gone ? ' she cries-r- ' alas , my fear ! Gone ! gone ! for ever gone ! the livel y throng , No more enraptur'd with his smile , Forego each artless wile , Nor longer with blythe joy the fleeting hours beguile .