Page:Poems Holford.djvu/42

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30
lady emmeline.
Or bid descend the tributary shower
To wet the turf where worth and valour lie,
Snatch Fame's bright banner from the grasp of Time,
O'er the illustrious dead to wave its folds sublime.

The gen'rous task be thine! Lo André's shade,
With flight indignant quits yon murd'rous shore!
Spirit of Song! instruct the matchless Maid,
Teach her sweet pity's seraph strain to pour,
Bid the sad tale descend to latest years,
Embalm'd to time remote, in friendship's tuneful tears!

What nameless thousands crowd life's little day,
Minions of sordid wealth, or pageant pow'r!
Born but to sport in Fortune's gilded ray,
The weak ephemera of a sunshine hour!
E'en Memory o'er their urns forgets to weep,
For them how dark the tomb, the oblivious grave how deep!