Favorite of hope! each lovely grace

To soothe the suffering soul was thine;

Nor could the eye but choose to trace

Thy mind of heaven, thy form divine.

Soft be the turf, that clothes thy breast,

There choicest flowers their blossoms wave;

For thou wast spotless, as the blest,

And thou shalt charm beyond the grave.

1803.

MONODY,

ON THE DEATH OF ISAAC STORY, ESQ.

SPIRIT of him, whose chastened soul

Could touch each chord of pure desire, Whence, flown beyond the mind's control,

Thy brilliant thought, thy Druid fire?

Lost in thy manhood's chariest bloom,

O'er thee shall pity meekly mourn,

And many a Sylph, who haunts the gloom,
With twilight dews besprend thine urn.

Yet may the willow love to bend,

And there the gentler myrtle woo, While softly sighs each passing friend, "Ah! YORICK, bard of truth, adieu !”

1803.

MONODY,

TO THE MEMORY OF COL. MARSTON WATSON.

MUSE of the melancholy power,

Who lovest in wayward fits to rove,
Hymning at midnight's sullen hour

The shivering throes of hopeless love;

Oh come! and while the funeral lay

With heartfelt sadness swells along,

In no unhallowed mood to pay

The votive eulogy of song;

Perchance to grace thy WATSON's tomb

The embalming flower may spring in nature's fairest

bloom.

Ah! what avails the manly mind,

The boasted energies of thought,

The soul, by virtue's beams refined,

Whence reason's subtler force is caught?

Ah! what the judgment's regal sway,

The generous sympathies of heart,

Which glow in feeling's purer day,

Beyond the aspiring reach of art?

Since, swept by death's relentless power, They fade in ripening life, the pageants of an hour.

No, from the unerring shafts of fate
Genius can boast no pierceless shield;

The wise, the eloquent, the great,

To time's resistless influence yield:

But, tyrant, here thy triumph ends;

Sublimely towering o'er the dust,

Fame thro the world exulting sends

"The sweet remembrance of the just ;"

And, graved in glory's marble page,

Their brilliant virtue lives, the grace of every age.

But, thou, whose timeless doom demands
From every eye the aching tear,

While widowed love a statue stands,

To breathe its anguish o'er thy bier;

How shall the humbler minstrel dare
In grief's sincere, tho feeble lays,

Thy matchless powers, thy worth declare,

Which claim the noblest meed of praise;

Ah, in the heart alone portrayed,

They bloom in speaking life, that scorns the pencil's aid.

How changed the scene, from what erewhile

With hope and rapture hailed the day;
When friendship wore a welcome smile,

And cheerly flew the hours away :