Miscellanies, an Elegy

Amidst these venerable drear remains Of ancient grandeur musing sad I stray, Around a melancholy silence reigns That prompts me to indulge the plaintive lay.

Here liv'd Eugenio, born of noble race: Aloft his mansion rose, around were seen Extensive gardens deck'd with ev'ry grace, Ponds, walks, and groves, thro' all the seasons green.

Ah! where is now its boasted beauty fled? Proud turrets that once glitter'd in the sky And broken columns in confusion spread A rude misshapen heap of ruins lie.

Of splendid rooms no traces here are found: How are these tott'ring walls by time defac'd, Shagg'd with vile thorn, with twining ivy bound, Once hung with tapestry, with paintings grac'd!

In ancient times perhaps where now I tread Licentious Riot crown'd the midnight bowl, Her dainties Luxury pour'd, and Beauty spread Her artful snares to captivate the soul.

Or here attended by a chosen train Of innocent delight true Grandeur dwelt, Diffusing blessings o'er the distant plain, Health, joy, and happiness, by thousands felt.

Around now Solitude unjoyous reigns, No gay gilt chariot hither marks the way, No more with cheerful hopes the needy swains At the once bounteous gate their visits pay.

Where too is now the garden's beauty fled Which ev'ry clime was ransack'd to supply? O'er the drear spot see desolation spread, And the dismantled walls in ruins lie!

Dead are the trees that once with nicest care Arrang'd from op'ning blossoms shed perfume, And thick with fruitage stood the pendent pear, The ruddy colour'd peach and glossy plum.

Extinct is all the family of flow'rs; In vain I seek the arbour's cool retreat, Where ancient friends in converse pass'd the hours, Defended from the raging Dogstar's heat.

Along the terrace walks are straggling seen The prickly bramble and the noisome weed, Beneath whose covert crawls the toad obscene, And snakes and adders unmolested breed.

The groves where Pleasure walk'd her rounds decay, The mead untill'd a barren aspect wears, And where the sprightly fawn was wont to play O'ergrown with heath a dreary waste appears.

In yonder wide-extended vale below Where osiers spread a pond capacious stood, From far by art the stream was taught to flow Whose liquid stores supply'd th' unfailing flood.

Oft' here the silent angler took his place, Intent to captivate the scaly fry— But perish'd now are all the num'rous race, Dumb is the fountain and the channel dry.

Here then, ye Great! behold th' uncertain state Of earthly grandeur—Beauty, strength, and pow'r, Alike are subject to the stroke of Fate, And flourish but the glory of an hour.

Virtue alone no dissolution fears, Still permanent tho' ages roll away: Who builds on her immortal basis rears A superstructure time can ne'er decay.