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ELEGY, On the DEATH of MR. BUCKINGHAM ST. JOHN, TUTOR of YALE COLLEGE, who was drowned in his Passage from New-Haven to Norwalk, May the 5th, 1771.
THE world now yields to night's returning sway;
The deeper glooms lead on the solemn hour,
And call my steps, beneath the moon's pale ray,
To roam in sadness on the sea-beat shore.
Now glide the unconstant shadows o'er the plain,
The broad moon swimming thro' the broken clouds,
The gleam of waters brightens on the main,
And anchor'd navies lift their waving shrouds.
Deep silence reigns, save on the moory ground,
The long reed rustling to the passing gales,
The noise of dashing waves, and hollow sound
Of rushing winds that murmur thro' the sails.
Far hence, ye pleasures of a mind at ease,
The sprightly joys that rural scenes can yield,
When spring, led jocund by the soft'ning breeze
Wakes the glad morn and robes the dewy field.
Far be the giddy raptures of the gay,
The midnight joys licentious youth can share,
While Ruin, smiling o'er her destin'd prey,
In sweet allurements hides her deadly snare.
Mine be the music of the rolling wave,
The moonlight shadows and surrounding gloom,
Mine the dread haunts of Contemplation grave,
That lift the soul to scenes beyond the tomb.
Here while deep midnight hold her silent reign,
And fancy bears the ravish'd thought along,
Dark Melancholy spreads her airy train,
And Friendship calls and Grief inspires the song.
As thro' these mournful glooms I stretch my sight,
Mid sounds of death that bid the soul attend,
Mid empty forms and fleeting shapes of night,
Slowly I view a whiterobed shade ascend.
That says, "I once was St. John! from the bounds
Of unknown realms beneath the dreary wave,
Where ever-restless floods in nightly rounds,
Roll their dark surges o'er my watry grave.
From seats which, near to mortal sight display'd,
The gates of vast eternity surround,
In night conceal'd and death's impervious shade,
My voice ascends! attend the warning sound.
Oh, thou attend! who flush'd with early bloom,
In life's new spring and vernal sweetness gay,
Mindless of fate, that must thy branch entomb,
Spread'st thy green blossoms to the morning ray.
With thee how late, how like alas, to thee,
To mortal joys by opening youth beguil'd,
I stretch'd my airy wish, and follow'd free,
Where pleasure triumph'd and where fancy smil'd.
Then while fond Hope her glitt'ring pinions spread,
Pointing to climes beyond the distant wave,
Ev'n then unnoticed o'er my destined head
Hung Death's dire form and seal'd me for the grave.
How vain the thought for many a joyous morn,
To taste of raptures unallay'd by woe!
At once from life and every pleasure torn,
From all I wish'd and all I loved below.
The faithless morning, on our opening sails,
Smiled out serene and smooth'd our gliding way,
While the gay vessel, fann'd by breathing gales,
Play'd on the placid bosom of the sea.
When lo, descending on the dark'ning wind,
Burst the dire storm—and feeble to sustain
The rushing blasts in warring fury join'd,
The frail skiff sinks beneath the surging main.
And see, afar the oarless boat conveys
The trembling sailors to the distant shore;
Alone, of aid bereft, with one last gaze,
I sunk in deeps and sunk to rise no more.
In that sad hour, what fearful scenes arise,
What pangs distress, what unknown fears dismay,
When future worlds disclosing on our eyes,
The trembling soul forsakes her kindred clay!
Before the awful bar, th' almighty throne,
[...] read, I've stood th' Eternal Judge to see,
And fix'd in bliss, or doom'd to endless moan,
Have heard the long, the unrevers'd decree:
Nor earth must know the rest"—Where art thou now,
In youthful joys my partner and my friend,
Of those blest hours thy fortune gave below,
Of all our hopes is this the fatal end?
Oh what avail'd that energy of mind,
For distant realms of science to explore,
That early led where Genius unconfin'd
Spreads her glad feast and opes her clasic store?
Ah what avail'd, mid earthly hopes so frail,
The same gay-dawning on thy rising years?
Ah what avail'd (for what could then avail?)
Thy friend's deep sorrow, or thy country's tears?
In pleasure's paths, where vivid fancy led,
Mid ev'ry hope that blooming worth could raise,
The wings of death, with fatal horror spread,
Blank'd the bright promise of thy future days.
So from the lowring west the darkened clouds
Rush on the sun and dim his orient ray,
And hateful night in glooms untimely shrouds
Th' ascending glories of the vernal day.
Adieu, my friend, so dear in vain, adieu,
Till some short days their fleeting courses roll,
Soon shall our steps thine earlier fate pursue,
Moved in the
[...]ace and crowding to the goal.
Th' approaching hour shall see the sun no more
Wheel his long course, or spread his golden ray;
Soon shall the dream of mortal life be o'er,
The brightness dawning of celestial day.
Then join'd in bliss, as once in friendship join'd,
May pitying heav'n our purer spirits raise,
Each crime atoned, each virtue well refined,
To pass a blest eternity of praise.