(1S IIIས ་ ་་་་ ་་ ་་་་་་ Great Cause of all effects, thy will be done!" 123 OCCASIONAL ELEGY, IN WHICH THE PRECEDING NARRATIVE IS CONCLUDED. THE Scene of death is closed! the mournful strains Dissolve in dying languor on the ear; Yet pity weeps, yet sympathy complains, And dumb suspense awaits o'erwhelm'd with fear: But the sad muses with prophetic eye At once the future and the past explore; Their harps oblivion's influence can defy, And waft the spirit to the eternal shore Then, O Palemon! if thy shade can hear Yet to the sad oblations bend thine ear, That rise in vocal incense o'er thy tomb: From young Arion first the news received And from her cheek the rose of beauty fled; In vain, alas! the gentle virgin wept, Corrosive anguish nipt her vital bloom; O'er her soft frame diseases sternly crept, And gave the lovely victim to the tomb: A longer date of woe, the widow'd wife Yet both were rescued from the chains of life The father unrelenting phrenzy stung, Ye lost companions of distress, adieu ! Your toils, and pains, and dangers are no more; The tempest now shall howl unheard by you, While ocean smites in vain the trembling shore; On you the blast, surcharged with rain and snow, In winter's dismal nights no more shall beat; Unfelt by you the vertic sun may glow, And scorch the panting earth with baneful heat: No more the joyful maid, with sprightly strain, Shall wake the dance to give you welcome home; Nor hopeless love impart undying pain, No more on yon wide watery waste you stray, While hunger and disease your life consume, While parching thirst, that burns without allay No more you feel contagion's mortal breath The thundering drum, the trumpet's swelling strain Since grief, fatigue, and hazards still molest Than we who still survive to wake, and weep: What though no funeral pomp, no borrow'd tear, The tutor❜d sigh, the vain parade of woe, What though no sculptured pile your name displays, Like those who perish in their country's cause; What though no epic muse in living lays Records your dreadful daring with applause, Full oft the flattering marble bids renown Yet shall remembrance from oblivion's veil And soft compassion at your tragic tale In silent tribute pay her kindred tear. |