Ode Occasion'd by the Death of Mr. Thomson

by William Collins

ODE

 

Occasion'd by the DEATH of

 

Mr. THOMSON

 

By Mr. WILLIAM COLLINS.

 

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Hæc tibi semper erunt, & cum solennia Vota
Reddemus Nymphis, & cum lustrabimus Agros.

——— ——— Amavit nos quoque Daphnis.
Virg. Bucol. Eclog. v.

 

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LONDON:

Printed for R. Manby and H. S. Cox, on Ludgate-Hill.
MDCCXLIX.

[ Price Six-pence. ]

ΤΟ

 

GEORGE LITTLETON, Esq;

 

THIS

 

ODE

 

IS INSCRIB'D BY

 

The AUTHOR.

ADVERTISEMENT.

The Scene of the following Stanzas is suppos'd to lie on the Thames near Richmond.

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ODE

ΟΝ ΤΗΕ

Death of Mr. THOMSON.

 

I.
In yonder Grave a Druid lies
Where slowly winds the stealing Wave!
The Year's best Sweets shall duteous rise
⁠To deck it's Poet's sylvan Grave!

II.
In yon deep Bed of whisp'ring Reeds
⁠His airy Harp^[1] shall now be laid,
That He, whose Heart in Sorrow bleeds
⁠May love thro' Life the soothing Shade.

III.
Then Maids and Youths shall linger here,
⁠And while its sounds at distance swell,
Shall sadly seem in Pity's Ear
⁠To hear the Woodland Pilgrim's Knell.

IV.
Remembrance oft shall haunt the Shore
⁠When Thames in Summer-wreaths is drest,
And oft suspend the dashing Oar
⁠To bid his gentle Spirit rest!

V.
And, oft as Ease and Health retire
⁠To breezy Lawn, or Forest deep,
The Friend shall view yon whit'ning Spire^[2],
⁠And 'mid the varied Landschape weep.

VI.
But Thou, who own'st that Earthly Bed,
⁠Ah! what will ev'ry Dirge avail?
Or Tears, which Love and Pity shed
⁠That mourn beneath the gliding Sail!

VII.
Yet lives there one, whose heedless Eye
⁠Shall scorn thy pale Shrine glimm'ring near?
With Him, Sweet Bard, may Fancy die,
⁠And Joy desert the blooming Year.

VIII.
But thou, lorn Stream, whose sullen Tide
⁠No sedge-crown'd Sisters now attend,
Now waft me from the green Hill's Side
⁠Whose cold Turf hides the buried Friend!

IX.
And see, the Fairy Valleys fade,
⁠Dun Night has veil'd the solemn View!
—Yet once again, Dear parted Shade
⁠Meek Nature's Child again adieu!

X.
The genial Meads assign'd to bless
⁠Thy Life, shall mourn thy early Doom,
Their Hinds, and Shepherd-Girls shall dress
⁠With simple Hands thy rural Tomb.

XI.
Long, long, thy Stone and pointed Clay
⁠Shall melt the musing Briton's Eyes,
O! Vales, and Wild Woods, shall He say
⁠In yonder Grave Your Druid lies!

 

FINIS.

1. The Harp of Æolus, of which see a Description in the Castle of Indolence.
2. Richmond-Church.