THE POET'S GRAVE
O'er the dark World young Genius.driv'n
Gives one bright glimpse of opening beav'n,
Then leaves. it wrapt in shades mo TM cheerless than
Ev'n thus its short duration knows
No interval of sweet repose,
Snatch'd onward thro' the gloom,
And kept, by fate's rude hand, apart
From ev'ry kind congenial heart,
It lives unblest, and sinks neglected to the tomb.
Alas ! that such a lot was thine,
Thou, ?hose cold dust, beneath this shrine,
Returns to kindred earth;
In vain, aspiring Fancy spread
Her eagle-pinions o'er thy head,
Or smil'd the heav'nly muse propitious on thy birth.
For, dark'ning all the dreary scene,
Fate interpos'd her' frowns between,
And check'd bold Fancy's flight;
While round the laurel of the muse
Pale Sorrow shed her sickly dews,
And breath'd o'er ev'ry bud her chill, untimely blight.