Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he Yet bitter felt it still to die He long survives who lives an hour And so long he, with unspent power, And ever as the minutes flew, Entreated help, or cried-" Adieu!" At length, his transient respite past, No poet wept him: but the page That tells his name, his worth, his age, And tears by bards or heroes shed I therefore purpose not, or dream, To give the melancholy theme But misery still delights to trace No voice divine the storm allay'd, We perish'd, each alone: But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he. The following three Poems have been omitted in their proper order. HUMAN FRAILTY. [1780.] WEAK and irresolute is man; The purpose of to-day, Woven with pains into his plan, The bow well bent, and smart the spring, But passion rudely snaps the string, And it revives again. Some foe to his upright intent Virtue engages his assent, But pleasure wins his heart. 'Tis here the folly of the wise Through all his art we view; Bound on a voyage of awful length, A stranger to superior strength, Man vainly trusts his own. But oars alone can ne'er prevail The breath of heaven must swell the sail, AN EPISTLE MADAM, TO A PROTESTANT LADY IN FRANCE. [1782.] A STRANGER'S purpose in these lays The path of sorrow, and that path alone, But he, who knew what human hearts would prove, In pity to the sinners he design'd To rescue from the ruins of mankind, Call'd for a cloud to darken all their years, And said, "Go spend them in the vale of tears." Oh, balmy gales of soul-reviving air, Oh, salutary streams that murmur there, These flowing from the fount of grace above, Those breathed from lips of everlasting love! The flinty soil indeed their feet annoys, Ah, be not sad, although thy lot be cast Far from the flock, and in a distant waste! No shepherd's tents within thy view appear, But the Chief Shepherd is for ever near; Thy tender sorrows and thy plaintive strain Flow in a foreign land, but not in vain; Thy tears all issue from a source divine, And every drop bespeaks a Saviour thine"Twas thus in Gideon's fleece the dews were found, And drought on all the drooping herds around. INSCRIPTION FOR THE TOMB OF MR HAMILTON. [1784.] PAUSE here, and think: a monitory rhyme And many a tomb, like Hamilton's, aloud |