Untimely gone, for ever fled, The roses of the cheek so red; The sweetness that in sorrow smiled. Alas! the cheek where beauty glow'd, And "dust to dust" the mourner cries, O from thy kindred early torn, Thou sister of my soul, adieu! Fair with my first ideas 'twined, Thine image oft will meet my mind; And, while remembrance brings thee near, Affection sad will drop a tear. How oft does sorrow bend thy head, Before we dwell among the dead! What tragic tears bedew the eye! No after-friendship e'er can raise Affection dies, a vernal flower, Versed in the commerce of deceit, How soon the heart begins to beat! The blood runs cold at interest's call :-- Then lovely nature is expell'd, And friendship is romantic held; Then prudence comes with hundred eyes— The veil is rent; the vision flies. The dear illusions will not last; The era of enchantment's past; The wild romance of life is done; The real history is begun. The sallies of the soul are o'er, The feast of fancy is no more: Ye gods! whatever ye withhold, my Ne'er may the human glow depart, Nor nature yield to frigid art. Still may the generous bosom burn, Though doom'd to bleed o'er beauty's urn; And still the friendly face appear, Though moisten'd with a tender tear. LIV. ODE ON THE GRAVE OF KING ARTHUR.-WARTON. STATELY the feast, and high the cheer: Girt with many an armed peer, And canopied with golden pall, Amid Cilgarran's castle hall, Sublime in formidable state, And warlike splendour Henry sate; Of Shannon's lakes with rebel blood. Illumining the vaulted roof, A thousand torches flamed aloof: |