AN

ELEGIAC POEM,

ADDRESSED TO

EDWARD IMPEY, ESQ.

1

AN

ELEGIAC POEM.

Sed totam hoc studium luctu fraterna mihi mors
Abstulit. O misero frater ademte mihi.

Tu mea tu moriens fregisti commoda, frater:
Tecum uná tota est nostra sepulta domus :
Omnia tecum uná perierunt gaudia nostra,
Quæ tuus in vitâ dulcis alebat amor.

Cujus ego interitu totâ de mente fugavi

Hæc studia, atque omnes delicias animi.

CATULLUS.

THROUGH these lone walks, and desolated bowers,

Scenes of my careless youth in happier hours,
From waste to waste perplex'd and lost I roam,
And trace, but faintly trace, my wonted home.

So chang'd, alas! deserted and decay'd
That scarce the Dryads own their native shade;
But weep their fleeting glories in the wane,
And yield to solitude the sylvan reign.

Hush'd is the vocal dome; no sprightly sound Of tuneful stop, provokes the mazy round: The giddy sport, the rapture unsupprest, The toil alternate, and the balmy rest, The short-liv'd cares, that ever at their birth By quick transition brighten'd into mirth, The fire of early zeal, the liberal flow From soul to soul of mutual bliss and woe, All, all are fled, and can I still forbear

In bitterness to think that such things were?

Dear early partners of my infant years, Source of my pleasures past, my future tears, Friends of my youth, on whom my soul relied, Brothers, by more than kindred ties allied,

For you I mourn; most cherish'd, most deplor'd, Both fled afar; one ne'er to be restor❜d!

For me-few traces left of bliss enjoy'd,

No prospect onward, but a gloomy void,
What now remains, but on the world's wide stage
Friendless, forlorn, to waste my prime of age?
Unnotic'd, unemploy'd; or if in aught

The object of a momentary thought,
Perchance to brook the cold insulting phrase
Of feign'd compassion, or unmeaning praise.

Yet not of all.-Unpitying world! let those Thy bounty crave, who in thy faith repose: Enough for me that still a few there are Who share my griefs-'tis all I have to share ; Friends with the will, if not the power, to raise, Whose favour fires me, and whose counsel sways: Foremost of all-forgive the wish too freeHastings-my soul aspires to number thee: Belov'd, rever'd, from childhood as my sire, Guide of my steps, and patron of my lyre, Thy patience prov'd by the severest test, Thy wrongs by all allow'd, by none redrest.