Despis'd and dejected, hc faints and he sighs!
Too rigorous Heaven!-how ghastly his eyes!
Thus I triumph o'er all!-lo! a Chatterton dies!
Spare, oh! spare, Almighty Pow'r!
His frenzy'd passion, and his last black hour; Spare his mortal portion! spare;
Think upon his case distrest,
And of his soul's fine essence grant a share
To some pure breast!
Long did he brave Unkindness' gorgon eye;
Fell Famine's meagre lip, and Scorn's polluted breath! He look'd to find a friend, he found no friend but
He never look'd on high,
Or Thou hadst been his friend;
Despair had turn'd his sight below,
Despair bad fix'd his home of woe,
Rashly rebellious fell the fatal blow!
God of Mercy! spare his end!
Perchance (to mortal audience still unknown)
In agony's keen, parting groan,
No brother near to wrest his hand,
No sire to catch his last command,
No mother's mournful care to dress his bier,
No sister's tender, tender tear:
In Hope's ethereal light he saw Thee shine,
And father, mother, brother, sister, all combine-
In the full pity of thy op'ning heav'n,
His foibles and his faults forgiv'n!
Sweetest child of Poesy,
May this meet thy soul on high,
Cheer thy memory of this world,
And shew thy flag of future fame unfurl'd.
WHAT art thou, with ebon hair
Hanging on thy shoulders bare ?
Now the hamlet's still as death,
Moping o'er the desert heath!
Wild and wan thy haggard face,
Which by moon-light I can trace:
Fiery red thy ferret eye
Doth deep in hollow socket lie;
And thy fingers lank and lean,
Spotted o'er with blood obscene,
Look as though a wound they gave,
Or had dug a new-made grave!
You move your skinny lips severe,
Yet no murmur'd sound I hear;
Ha! beneath thy sable pall
I hear a babe for mercy call;
Fainter now its feeble shrick;
How you writhe its little neck;
How you suck its flowing gore-
Lo! its bosom throbs no more.
Who are these behind that throng,
Dragging a pale corse along?
How their murd'rous eyeballs gleam
O'er his deep wound's sanguine stream:
Now on me their leaden stare
Is levell'd with malignant glare;
Wrapt in Horror's central gloom
Heavy on my heart they come,
Yet with pausing step they steal-
In pity, Fancy, drop the veil.
HOW fall'n the shades that once luxuriant rose,
Where ling'ring Transport wav'd his purple wing;
Untuneful now the shallow riv'let flows,
And o'er the fairy wild rude ravens sing.
Where the long labyrinth meand'ring deep,
Beguil'd the easy step to yonder grove,
Once, Beauty wont her vigils fond to keep,
And watch the hour when Henry came and love.
Ye sad deserted trees, whose holy boughs
Sigh'd at her mournful fate, extend your arms,
With vernal arch her little tomb inclose,
And guard the fair Perfection's sacred charms.
Here Pity's self breathes soft the tender moan Through aspen grots, shrill quiv'ring to the gale ; Extinguish'd ardor marks each conscious stone, And turtles tell their fair one's tragic tale.
Ev'n now, through yonder gloom, the furious queen,
Seems harsh to menace the faint-gleaming sword,
Pale Jealousy thrills quick through ev'ry vein,
She stabs her husband through his best ador'd.
Let Melancholy feed her dreary breast
With pensive thoughts, and melt the streaming eye, While Rosamond, in saintly radiance drest,
Reviews her faded Woodstock with a sigh.
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