ELEGY, To the Memory of Mr THOMAS GODFREY

Where nodding yews the solemn grove imbrown, Where ivy creeps, and gloomy cypress frown, While low'ring clouds the face of Phaebe shade, And fleeting ghosts glide silent o'er the glade, There let me lie—by lighter ills unmov'd, And weep the mem'ry of the Youth I lov'd. Melpomene, whose plaintive harp ne'er knew, Aught but heart-piercing sounds of sadest woe, With mournful voice, and ever-melting tongue, Join in my grief, and aid th' elegiac song.

Death's icy hand has clos'd my Damon's eyes, His corse entomb'd, in sleep eternal lies. Cold is that breast which ev'ry virtue fir'd, (Where music dwelt), and all the Nine inspir'd. Silent, no more the tuneful tongue shall charm, No more with glow benign the cheek shall warm; The death-fixt eye no more with lustre beam, No more the placid brow shall smile serene. And, ah! that heart the seat of truth before, With friendship's sacred fires shall beat no more: Black-rob'd oblivion's baleful wing outspread, Shrouds his lov'd form, and ev'ry charm is fled. His sable reign the tyrant whelms o'er-all, Thus the proud perish, thus the virtuous fall! As silver streams in easy mazes glide, And to the main in tribute roll their tide, Or bursting flames in curling volumes rise Seeking their place congenial in the skies; Thus Man is born, thus haste his fleeting days, Transient his glory as the Meteor's blaze. Nature's great law stern death impartial sounds, Hurls the barb'd dart and undistinguish'd wounds: The regal sceptre in the dust he throws, Rends the plum'd helmet from the Hero's brows, And tears from beauty's cheek the blooming rose; Strikes manly vigor with'ring, in life's prime, Bids palsied age its trembling breath resign, Tears from the bleeding breast the infant heir, In vain the parent-sigh, in vain the melting pray'r: The friend belov'd—Oh! burst my beating heart, Here the dread tyrant quenches ev'ry dart!

On thee, dear Youth, the blow was soft imprest, Ages of bliss succeed and golden rest; 'Tis mine alone to drain th' envenom'd bowl, The shaft sustain that rankles in the soul; Sighing to recollect each joyous day, That friendship's Cherub smile made ever gay; In life's first dawn, with infant passion fir'd, One path entic'd us, and one wish inspir'd; By friendship warm'd (tho' strangers to the name, 'Til love of sister-arts encreas'd the flame); On the soft music of thy lyre I hung, Charm'd with the early lay so sweetly sung, I hail'd! with rapture thy ascending fame! And saw from ripen'd years, a deathless name! In vain I sigh!—the sun-clad vision 's o'er, Those strains by heav'n inspir'd shall charm no more!

Dear shade, farewell!—it smiling quits its clay Waves the glad hand, and mounts the dazzling way. See! glitt'ring bands in angel transport join! Waft him to endless bliss with songs divine! Hark! how the sounds seraphic strike the ear! O virtue! now thy raptures are sincere!

Ye gentle Swains of Carolina's shore, Who knew my Damon, (now, alas! no more), By moon-light round his hallow'd grave repair, Strew sweetest flow'rs, and drop a sorrowing tear; With never-fading laurel shade his tomb, And bid the rising bay for ever bloom, Teach springing flow'rs their purpl'd heads to rise, And sweetly twining, write, Here Virtue lies. Sing in sad strains each venerable name, In Fortune's spite, that struggl'd up to fame; By Virtue led life's rugged road along, Their lives instructive as their sweetest song. Say, while their praises tremble on the tongue, Thus liv'd this youthful Bard, thus gentle Damon sung.

What tho', ah! much-lov'd Youth 'mong strangers thrown Thy relicks sleep, beneath a nameless stone, No sculptur'd glories o'er thy ashes plac'd, That weeping seem to speak what once thou wast; What, tho' no tuneful Bard thy praises sings, And only friendship sounds the jarring strings; Yet, with the good and just, thy name shall live, 'Tis Virtue's sacred right—this pageant pomp can't give.