| Citation |
AWM.725.003
23 Feb-4 Mar 1725:21 (272)
The following verses were lately left with the printer, by
an intimate friend of A.R. deceased, who touching at
Philadelphia, on his way to Great Britain, had but time to
hear a relation of his friends death, view the place of his
interment, and write these lines, without revising 'em,
which he entitled,
ON SIGHT OF MYRIS TOMB; AN ELEGY.
Stream on my eyes, with generous grief o'er flow,
At this most solemn spectacle of woe:
'Tis Muris Tomb, this little spot contains,
Of that once active youth the dead remains
His mouldring dust in silent darkness lies.
Dumb his sweet tongue and clos'd his cheerful eyes,
Lamented friend! Thy glass too swiftly run,
Too swift the life, thou hadst so well begun;
Oh why wert thou so early snatch'd away?
So quickly banish'd from the realms of day?
And e'er we knew they merit mixt with common clay.
. . . [20 lines]
And thou no more shalt hear him touch the lyre,
Not his low'd strains thy list'ning youth inspire.
The bard no more on beauty's theme shall write,
Nor fair Augusta's fairer nymphs recite;
Nor shall the zephyrs gently waft the sound,
Nor Venus and the graces, dance around,
Nor joyful Thames shall rear his lawrel'd head,
Nor Neptune charm'd repose on his rough bed.
. . . [48 more lines]
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