Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Poetry.
What booVs it now thy sad prophetic soul , Warn'd from above , descried impending fate ? Of doubt and fear first felt the stern controul , . ~ And saw wide ope the adamantine gate I How fond the wish , that Heav'n-imparted fear Had from the billows sav'd thy rosy breath , To sorrowing friendship spar'd the bitter tear
, And snatch'd one victim . from the grasp of death ! For , lo ! in air the gath ' ring whirlwinds meet ; Clouds rush on clouds in fierce confusion hurl'd , And big with ruin rage through all the fleet , And fill with wild uproar the watry- world . Howls the loud storm , and from the aching sight In sudden darkness wraps the dread domain ;
As chaos were return'd , and tenfold night Resum'd her ancient melancholy reign . See I reeling through the foamy , wild abyss , Now here , now there , the giddy ships are born ; Astonish'd hear the growing tempest hiss ; And hope and fear alike th' expected morn .
Ah I what avails of youth th' intrepid force , Or the calm counsels of maturer age , Of stubborn fatef avert the certain course , Or quell the storm , or curb old Ocean's rage ? Nor might , nor skill , the striking bark can save ; The lurking sands arrest her from beneath ; With horrid crash wide op'ning to the wave ,
And dreadful rushes in the watry death . They seek the monstrous caverns of the deep , Or breathless cast upon the sounding shore ( Where birds of prey their dreary mansions keep . And round the storm-beat rock the billows roar ) Neglected lie ; the last sad rites denied , That pious duty pays the flitting shade ,
Of hallow'd earth" the sleeping dust to hide , And solemn dirge slow winding through the glade . What though in storms thy gentle spirit fled , Midst raging billows , and a wintry sky ; And the green wave , deep closing o ' er thy head . Low sunk beneath' thy sacred reiicks lie ! Yet not unblestO REED I thy mournful bier
, , Nor yet unsung th y ashes shall remain ; The muse to thee shall-consecrate the tear , And genuine urge the elegiac strain . What though to soft humanity denied To tend thy couch , and catch thy parting breath ! Watch the last ebb of life's retreating-tide , And wipe away the chill cold damps of death 1
Yet present he , the mild propitious Pow ' r , That from the flood the rash disciple bore , To sooth the anguish of thy final hour , And bid his angels waft thee to the shore . There rest in peace : erelong , when Heav ' n decrees , We too , like thee , the frequent path shall tread ; And toss'd awhile on life ' s tempestuous seas ,
Outfly the slorm . and mingle with the dead . VOL . V . T
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Poetry.
What booVs it now thy sad prophetic soul , Warn'd from above , descried impending fate ? Of doubt and fear first felt the stern controul , . ~ And saw wide ope the adamantine gate I How fond the wish , that Heav'n-imparted fear Had from the billows sav'd thy rosy breath , To sorrowing friendship spar'd the bitter tear
, And snatch'd one victim . from the grasp of death ! For , lo ! in air the gath ' ring whirlwinds meet ; Clouds rush on clouds in fierce confusion hurl'd , And big with ruin rage through all the fleet , And fill with wild uproar the watry- world . Howls the loud storm , and from the aching sight In sudden darkness wraps the dread domain ;
As chaos were return'd , and tenfold night Resum'd her ancient melancholy reign . See I reeling through the foamy , wild abyss , Now here , now there , the giddy ships are born ; Astonish'd hear the growing tempest hiss ; And hope and fear alike th' expected morn .
Ah I what avails of youth th' intrepid force , Or the calm counsels of maturer age , Of stubborn fatef avert the certain course , Or quell the storm , or curb old Ocean's rage ? Nor might , nor skill , the striking bark can save ; The lurking sands arrest her from beneath ; With horrid crash wide op'ning to the wave ,
And dreadful rushes in the watry death . They seek the monstrous caverns of the deep , Or breathless cast upon the sounding shore ( Where birds of prey their dreary mansions keep . And round the storm-beat rock the billows roar ) Neglected lie ; the last sad rites denied , That pious duty pays the flitting shade ,
Of hallow'd earth" the sleeping dust to hide , And solemn dirge slow winding through the glade . What though in storms thy gentle spirit fled , Midst raging billows , and a wintry sky ; And the green wave , deep closing o ' er thy head . Low sunk beneath' thy sacred reiicks lie ! Yet not unblestO REED I thy mournful bier
, , Nor yet unsung th y ashes shall remain ; The muse to thee shall-consecrate the tear , And genuine urge the elegiac strain . What though to soft humanity denied To tend thy couch , and catch thy parting breath ! Watch the last ebb of life's retreating-tide , And wipe away the chill cold damps of death 1
Yet present he , the mild propitious Pow ' r , That from the flood the rash disciple bore , To sooth the anguish of thy final hour , And bid his angels waft thee to the shore . There rest in peace : erelong , when Heav ' n decrees , We too , like thee , the frequent path shall tread ; And toss'd awhile on life ' s tempestuous seas ,
Outfly the slorm . and mingle with the dead . VOL . V . T