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ANSWER TO A BEAUTIFUL POEM, WRITTEN

BY MONTGOMERY, AUTHOR OF "THE
WANDERER OF SWITZERLAND,"

ENTITLED "THE COMMON LOT."1

I.

MONTGOMERY! true, the common lot

Of mortals lies in Lethe's wave;

Yet some shall never be forgot,

Some shall exist beyond the grave.

2.

"Unknown the region of his birth,"

2

The hero rolls the tide of war;

Yet not unknown his martial worth,

Which glares a meteor from afar.

3.

His joy or grief, his weal or woe,

Perchance may 'scape the page of fame;

Yet nations, now unborn, will know

The record of his deathless name.

ETC.,

1. [Montgomery (James), 1771-1854, poet and hymn-writer, published Prison Amusements (1797), The Ocean; a Poem (1805), The Wanderer of Switzerland, and other Poems (1806), The West Indies, and other Poems (1810), Songs of Sion (1822), The Christian Psalmist (1825), The Pelican Island, and other Poems (1827), etc. (vide post, English Bards, etc., line 418, and note).]

2. No particular hero is here alluded to. The exploits of Bayard, Nemours, Edward the Black Prince, and, in more modern times, the fame of Marlborough, Frederick the Great, Count Saxe, Charles of Sweden, etc., are familiar to every historical reader, but the exact places of their birth are known to a very small proportion of their admirers.

4.

The Patriot's and the Poet's frame

Must share the common tomb of all: Their glory will not sleep the same; That will arise, though Empires fall.

5.

The lustre of a Beauty's eye

Assumes the ghastly stare of death ; The fair, the brave, the good must die, And sink the yawning grave beneath.

6.

Once more, the speaking eye revives,

Still beaming through the lover's strain;

For Petrarch's Laura still survives :

She died, but ne'er will die again.

7.

The rolling seasons pass away,

And Time, untiring, waves his wing; Whilst honour's laurels ne'er decay,

But bloom in fresh, unfading spring.

8.

All, all must sleep in grim repose,

Collected in the silent tomb;

The old, the young, with friends and foes, Fest'ring alike in shrouds, consume,

9.

The mouldering marble lasts its day,

Yet falls at length an useless fane;
To Ruin's ruthless fangs a prey,

The wrecks of pillar'd Pride remain.

10.

What, though the sculpture be destroy'd,
From dark Oblivion meant to guard;
A bright renown shall be enjoy'd,

By those, whose virtues claim reward.

II.

Then do not say the common lot

Of all lies deep in Lethe's wave;

Some few who ne'er will be forgot

Shall burst the bondage of the grave.

1806.

LOVE'S LAST ADIEU.

Αεὶ δ ̓ ἀεί με φεύγει.--[PSEUD.] ANACREON, [Εἰς χρυσὸν].

I.

THE roses of Love glad the garden of life,

Though nurtur'd 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew, Till Time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife, Or prunes them for ever, in Love's last adieu!

2.

In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart,

In vain do we vow for an age to be true;
The chance of an hour may command us to part,

Or Death disunite us, in Love's last adieu!

3.

Still Hope, breathing peace, through the grief-swollen breast,i

Will whisper, "Our meeting we yet may renew: " With this dream of deceit, half our sorrow's represt, Nor taste we the poison, of Love's last adieu !

4.

Oh! mark you yon pair, in the sunshine of youth,

Love twin'd round their childhood his flow'rs as they

grew;

They flourish awhile, in the season of truth,

Till chill'd by the winter of Love's last adieu !

5.

Sweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its way,

Down a cheek which outrivals thy bosom in hue?

Yet why do I ask ?-to distraction a prey,

Thy reason has perish'd, with Love's last adieu !

6.

Oh! who is yon Misanthrope, shunning mankind?
From cities to caves of the forest he flew :

i. Still, hope-beaming peace.—[P. on V. Occasions.]

There, raving, he howls his complaint to the wind;
The mountains reverberate Love's last adieu !

7.

Now Hate rules a heart which in Love's easy chains,
Once Passion's tumultuous blandishments knew ;

Despair now inflames the dark tide of his veins,
He ponders, in frenzy, on Love's last adieu !

8.

How he envies the wretch, with a soul wrapt in steel!
His pleasures are scarce, yet his troubles are few,
Who laughs at the pang that he never can feel,
And dreads not the anguish of Love's last adieu!

9.

Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o'ercast;

No more, with Love's former devotion, we sue : He spreads his young wing, he retires with the blast; The shroud of affection is Love's last adieu !

IO.

In this life of probation, for rapture divine,

Astrea1 declares that some penance is due;

From him, who has worshipp'd at Love's gentle shrine, The atonement is ample, in Love's last adieu!

1. The Goddess of Justice.

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