By whose faint breath it must abide, Unvouch'd by proof-to substance unallied! The grace of action-the adapted mien, Faithful as nature to the varied scene: [draws Th' expressive glance-whose subtle comment Entranc'd attention, and a mute applause; Gesture that marks, with force and feeling fraught, A sense in silence, and a will in thought; Harmonious speech, whose pure and liquid tone Gives verse a music, scarce confess'd its own; As light from gems assumes a brighter ray; And cloth'd with orient hues, transcends the day !--Passion's wild break-and frown that awes the And every charm of gentler eloquence- [sense, All perishable !-like th' electric fire, But strike the frame-and as they strike expire; Incense too pure a bodied flame to bear, Its fragrance charms the sense, and blends with air. Where then-while sunk in cold decay he lies, And O! by every charm his art essay'd By all those thoughts, which, many a distant night Still in your heart's dear record bear his name ; What more is due from sanctifying time, neath, For these-when Sculpture's votive toil shall rear O loveliest mourner, gentle Muse! be thine To roam the mansions of the sainted dead So thou, sweet Muse! hang o'er the sculptur'd bier, MONODY TO THE MEMORY OF A YOUNG LADY. YET do I live! O how shall I sustain This vast unutterable weight of wo? This worse than hunger, poverty, or pain, She, in whose life my hopes were treasur'd all, My dearest Emma's dead; These eyes, these tear-swol'n eyes, beheld her fall: more. I, who the tedious absence of a day Remov'd, would languish for my charmer's sight, Would chide the lingering moments for delay, And fondly blame the slow return of night; How, how shall I endure (O misery past a cure!) Hours, days, and years, successively to roll, With downcast streaming eyes, Stood the stern frown of supercilious brows, Come then, some Muse, the saddest of the train, Ill suit the flowers of speech with woes like mine! Thus, haply, as I paint The source of my complaint, My soul may own th' impassion❜d line; [grief. And from my swelling heart discharge this load of Forbear, my fond officious friends, forbear Beam'd forth the beauties of her mind, Of manners most engaging, most refin’d. No piteous object could she see, But her soft bosom shar'd the wo, While smiles of affability Endear'd whatever boon she might bestow : Whate'er th' emotions of her heart, Still shone conspicuous in her eyes, Stranger to every female art, Alike to feign, or to disguise: And O-the boast how rare! The secret in her faithful breast repos'd In sacred silence lodg'd inviolate there. Relentless Death! that, steel'd to human wo, With murderous hands deals havoc on mankind, Why (cruel!) strike this deprecated blow, And leave such wretched multitudes behind? Hark! groans come wing'd on every breeze! But, oh! fell tyrant! yet expect the hour But, ah! in vain-no change of time or [place Of all that sweetness, that enchanting air, [spair. Now lost; and nought remains but anguish and deWhere were the delegates of Heaven--oh where? Appointed Virtue's children safe to keep! Had Innocence or Virtue been their care, When Torture's keenest rage she prov'd; When, feeling Death's resistless pow'r, |