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Awake, in all thy glories drest,
See! all her works demand thy aid;
A plaint is heard from ev'ry tree;
Come then, with Pleasure at thy side,
THE DEATH OF MR. GRAY.
Me quoque Musarum studium sub nocte silenti
ENOUGH of fabling, and th' unhallow'd haunts
Of Dian' and of Delia, names profane,
Since not Diana nor all Delia's train
Afe subjects that befit a serious song;
May but compare with the lamented Gray!
Drew all the list'ning shepherds in a ring,
Thy moving notes, on sunny hill or plain,
And catch new grace from thy immortal strain.
O wood-hung Menaï, and ye sacred groves Of Delphi, we still venerate your names, Whose awful shades inspir'd the Druids dreams. Your recess, tho' imagin'd, Fancy loves, And thro' these long-lost scenes delighted roves: So future bards perhaps shall sing of Thames, And as they sing shall say,
'Twas there of old where mus'd illustrious Gray! By Isis' banks his tuneful lays would suit To Pindar's lofty lyre, or Sappho's Lesbian lute..
Oft would he sing, when the still Eve came on, Till sable Night resum❜d her ebon throne, And taught us, in his melancholic mood, To scorn the great, and love the wise and good; Told us 'twas virtue never dies,
And to what ills frail mankind open lies;
How safe thro' life's tempestuous sea to steer, Where dang'rous rocks and shelves and whirlpools oft appear.
And when fair Morn arose again to view,
A fairer landscape still he drew,
And gilded clouds on azure hills,
The fragrant bow'rs, and painted flow'rs,
The very insects, that in sun-beams play,
But, ah! sad Melancholy intervenes, And draws a cloud o'er all these shining scenes. 'Tis her, alas! we often find,
The troubler of each great unbounded mind, And leagu'd with her associate Fear,
Will tremble lest the turning sphere,
And sinking earth, and reeling planets run
But now, great Bard, thy life of pain is o'er; 'Tis we must weep, tho' thou shalt grieve no more. Thro' other scenes thou now dost rove,
And cloth'd with gladness walk'st the courts above, And listen'st to the heav'nly choir,
Hymning their God, while seraphs strike the lyre. Safe with them in those radiant climes of bliss, Thou now enjoy'st eternal happiness.