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There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre,

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For me, when I forget the darling theme, Whether the blossom blows, the summer - ray Russets the plain, inspiring autumn gleams, Or winter rises in the blackening east;

Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat!

Should fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on th' Atlantic isles; 'tis nought to me: Since God is ever present, ever felt,

In the void waste as in the city full;

And where he vital breathes there must be joy.
When even at last the solemn hour shall come,
And wing my mystic flight to future world,
I chearful will obey; there, with new powers,
Will rising wonders sing: I cannot go
Where universal love not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their sons;
From seeming evil still educing good,

And better thence again, and better still,

In infinite progression. But I lose

Myself in him, in light ineffable;

Come then, expressive silence, muse his praise.

O DE

ON THE

DEATH OF M. THOMSON.

BY M.

COLLIN S..

The scene of the following stanzas is supposed to lie on the Thames near Richmond.

I.

IN yonder grave a Druid lies

Where slowly winds the stealing wave! The year's best sweets shall duteous rise To deck its Poet's sylvan grave!

I I.

In yon deep bed of whisp'ring reeds

His airy harp (1) shall now be laid,

(1) The harp of Eolus, of which see a description in the Casi

of Indolence.

That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds,
May love thro' life the soothing shade.

I I I.

Then maids and youths shall linger here,
And while its sounds at distance swell,
Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear

To hear the Woodland Pilgrim's knell.

I V.

Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore

When Thames in summer wreaths is drest, And oft suspend the dashing oar

To bid his gentle spirit rest!

V.

And oft as Ease and Health retire

To breezy lawn, or forest deep,

The friend shall view yon whitening (1) spire, And 'mid the varied landscape weep.

V I.

But Thou, who own'st that earthy bed,
Ah! what will every dirge avail?

(1) Richmond Church,

Or tears, which Love and Pity shed

That mourn beneath the gliding sail!

V I I.

Yet lives there one, whose heedless eye

Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimm'ring near? With him, sweet bard, may Fancy die,' And Joy desert the blooming year.

VIII.

But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide
No sedge-crown'd Sisters now attend,
Now waft me from the green hill's side
Whose cold turf hides the buried friend!

I X.

And see, the fairy valleys fade,

Dun Night has veil'd the solemn view!
Yet once again, dear parted shade,
Meek Nature's Child, again adieu !

X.

The genial meads assign'd to bless

Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom, Their hinds, and shepherd-girls shall dress With simple hands thy rural tomb.

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