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THE
YEAR OF SORROW.
Written in NEW-YORK at the close of the Year
1804.
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“His saltem accumulem donis, et sungar inani.
“Munere”! Virg. |
This
Elegy was written at the close of the year 1804,
as a tribute of regret to the memory of several
friends most dear to the author, who in that year
paid the debt of nature. The first of these was
Dr. Percival, of Manchester; well known in the
literary world, as a skilful Physician, an elegant
Scholar, an amiable Companion, and a pious Christian.—As
he was “a second father”
to the author, mention is here also made of his
real parent, who was chief Magistrate of Manchester—and
died in June, 1802, aged 57.—A memoir of
his life was published by Dr. Percival, in the
Monthly Magazine for that year.—The second
person lamented, is Robert Sumner, A. B. whose
virtues have been so imperfectly recorded in the
former pages.—The third is John, son of
the late Sir John Mosely, of Staffordshire, a
student of Oriel College, Oxford—he died
almost suddenly in the 18th year of his age. This
young man added to his mental qualities, the most
singular beauty of person;—and was remarked
even when a boy for his wonderful elegance and
activity,—his manly and ingenuous countenance,—and
his great superiority of strength.
The
fair female whose name closes this list of sorrow,
was a young lady, the most intimate companion
of the author’s sister, who died at Manchester,
in October 1804, aged 23, after a short illness.
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1.
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SWIFTLY
the year has past;—whose genial beams,
For me on Albion’s blissful plains
arose;
And now, by Hudson’s
unregarded streams,
Marks me a dreary wand’rer at it’s
close!
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2.
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| Yet
time may fly, and chance may bid me rove |
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To
trace new scenes of Fashion or of Fame;
But time and place can never
change the love
Which centers only in it’s country’s
name!
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3.
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Then
let me glance my mem’ry on the few,
Who still are there, to raise my drooping
head;
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And
let the genuine tear their names bedew,
Whom the last year has number’d with
the dead!
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4.
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For
there were hearts which now no longer beat,
For me where many a parting sorrow burn’d;
And there were lips which
mine no more shall meet,
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| That
bade me live to bless them when
return’d! [Page 48] |
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5.
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O!
witness this, thou, on whose recent grave,
A thousand mourning Charities attend;
Thou, “Percival,”
whom Heav’n and Virtue gave
My guide, my second—Father, and my
friend!
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6.
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For
I had once a father—(and can claim
A father still, immortaliz’d above)
And such a father,
as enhanc’d the name
With more than human tenderness and love!
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7.
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| Him
had his Mersey twice—three lustres
seen, |
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The
guardian of her Justice and her laws;
Him had she twice rous’d
from the peaceful scene
To wield the sabre in his country’s cause!
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8.
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Him
had she seen, when daily toil had ceas’d,
Stray forth at eve to calm some suff’ring
breast;
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At
once the donor of the Social feast,
At once the pauper’s charitable guest!
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9.
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Him
had she seen the husband of a hand;
Worthy his heart, and with his heart combin’d;
Him too the parent of a
num’rous band,
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| Large,
yet encompass’d in his larger mind! |
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10.
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To
these (bereft of him) in pitying
love,
Heav’n gave a second father as sincere;
Who then paternal
fondness so could prove,
As now to wake afresh the
filial tear!
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11.
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For
I remember when in pain reclin’d,
Thy medicinal hand was constant there;
And oft thy more—than
medicinal mind
In deep affliction snatch’d me from
Despair!
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12.
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| And
I remember when my earliest youth, |
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In
dreams of Fancy and of Error stray’d;
Thy precepts led me to the
paths of Truth,
Unask’d, and (save by conscience)
unrepaid!
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13.
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How
did thy feast of reasoning wit regale!
How did thy converse tedious night beguile! [Page
49]
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Combined
the moral with the cheerful tale,
And taught the Sigh to mingle with the
Smile!
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14.
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Or
did’st thou guide the pen, how swiftly flow’d
Genius with elegance spontaneous fraught;
Where Wisdom’s self,
where pure Religion glow’d,
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| Luxuriant
language, yet the chastest thought. |
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15.
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Bless’d
be thy mem’ry! And if happly now
Thy Spirit meets my father in it’s charms;
O! join with him to guide
me here below,
And (if thou canst’) restore me to
his arms!
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16.
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For—may
not Hope, without presumption think,
That friends on earth, are guardian angels
there;
Who snatch the soul when
on destruction’s brink
And oft direct it to the realms of air?
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17.
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may not Faith anticipate the hour, |
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When
Hope, dissolv’d in Certainty,
shall fail;
And Charity renew’d
with nobler pow’r,
Unblemish’d and unfailing shall prevail?
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18.
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Then—in
redeeming mercy, may my soul,
Give happier passions and affections birth;
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Freed
from the pangs of Envy’s dread control,
And all that injures friendship, when on earth!
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19.
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Then
from my Sumner, may it never part,
For whom the muse long pour’d the sorrowing
strain;
There share the raptures
of his cheerful heart,
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| Without
the anguish of his former pain! |
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20.
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Nor
less with thee, thro’ genial skies
above,
My airy spirit then may wing it’s
flight;
Thou, whom this
year, so fatal to my love,
Plung’d in a moment to the shades of night!
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21.
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Thou,
Mosely,—whom my earliest childhood lov’d;
My chosen playmate e’re I knew thy worth;
When hand in hand on Avon’s
banks we rov’d,
And mock’d the schoolboy’s hardships
in our mirth! [Page50]
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22.
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| Whilst
health sate blushing thro’ thy downy cheek, |
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And
pleasure sparkled in thy moistening eyes;
(Those eyes which erst an
eloquence could speak
Of every feeling that might chance to rise;)
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23.
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Whilst
Vigour cloath’d thy manly limbs with charms,
“Harmonious swell’d by nature’s
finest hand;”
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Taught
thee to stem the current with thy arms,
And bade the ball recoil at thy command;
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24.
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Yes!—whilst
the banks of Isis fondly shew’d,
A form so perfect in a stripling’s
years;
And prov’d that beauty,
when on worth bestow’d,
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| The
brightest work of bounteous Heav’n appears; |
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25.
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Death
hover’d o’er, with his resistless dart,
And instantaneous dealt the fatal blow;
Bade cease the throbbings
of thy gen’rous heart,
And laid thy youth’s aspiring honors low!
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26.
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| When
Virtue, thus, array’d in
op’ning bloom, |
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Fram’d
to delight the mind, the sense to cheer,
Sinks early blasted to the
silent tomb,
Who can suppress the sigh—restrain the tear?
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27.
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Then
who—when join’d to Beauty and
to Truth,
The name of “Female”—heightens
every grace;
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Can
cease to weep, when in expanding youth,
Her form is sever’d from his fond embrace?
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28.
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Such
was Eliza! such my Sister’s friend;
That Sister mark’d her live—and
mark’d her die!
Long must she mourn her
lov’d companion’s end;
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| Long
shall her brother mourn in sympathy! |
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29.
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For
she was all—the fond fraternal mind,
Could wish a darling Sister to possess;
And that the purest heart
on earth could find;
And Seraphs now may glory to caress!
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30.
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Such
are the names, that Sorrow bids me write,
(Tho’ rude the hand) on Mem’ry’s
sable Urn;
Names which this year has
shadow’d in its night;
And, like itself, can never more return!
[Page 51]
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31.
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| Yes!
’tis the year of sorrow, past!—and now, |
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Another
dawns as fickle, tho’ as clear;
This too may ravish
other friends below,
But none more virtuous—few
more justly dear.
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32.
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The
year of Sorrow!—quickly has its past!
Quickly will pass the few that yet remain;
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’Tis
but a journey!—and our souls at last,
Shall meet their friends, never to part again!
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