The Seasons (Thomson)/Ode on the Death of Mr. Thomson
ODE
ON THE
DEATH of Mr. THOMSON.
By Mr. COLLINS.
(The scene of the following stanzas is supposed to lie
on the Thames near Richmond.)
IN yonder grave a Druid lies
Where slowly winds the stealing wave!
The year’s best sweets shall duteous rise
To deck its Poet's sylvan grave!
In yon deep bed of whispering reeds
His airy harp[1] shall now be laid,
That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds,
May love thro' life the soothing shade.
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.
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!
And oft as Ease and Health retire
To breezy lawn, or forest deep,
The friend shall view yon whitening spire[2],
And 'mid the varied landscape weep.
But Thou, who own'st that earthy bed,
Ah! what will every dirge avail?
Or tears which Love and Pity shed
That mourn beneath the gliding sail!
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.
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!
And see the fairy valleys fade,
Dun Night has veil'd the solemn view!
Yet once again, dear parted shade,
Meek Natur's Child, again adieu!
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.
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!
- ↑ The harp of Æolus, of which see a description in the Castle of Indolence.
- ↑ Richmond Church.