Poems (Campbell)/The Grave of Abbot
THE GRAVE OF ABBOT.[1]
From Erin's isle a stranger came; Sunk was his cheek, and dim his eye,And the still fair but wasted frame, Spoke the last hour of suff'ring nigh.His youth was like a lovely spring Foretelling summer's joyful time—But fell disease was on the wing, And blasted Abbot's hopeful prime;Laid all his graces in the dust, And cropt his honours in their bloom;—But Abbot's was the Christian's trust— He look'd with faith beyond the tomb! Nurtur'd amid the sons of wax He acted there a gallant part,Yet, his were graces lovelier far— The softer virtues of the heart!His was the bosom taught to glow With friendship warm and passion true,And he would sigh for others' woe, Nor less relieve, than pity too.Poor stranger! o'er thy bed of death Strangers with love and pity hung—And watch'd with grief thy parting breath,. And the last faulter of thy tongue.They watch'd thine eye so mild and meek, Where faith and resignation beam'd;And saw when on thy pallid cheek The tear, for youthful follies, gleam'd.And, Stranger, o'er thy narrow bed A pensive stranger drops the tear,And where, unmark'd, thy gentle head Is pillow'd, weeps and wanders near.And they who knew thy early worth, Abbot, shall weep thy mournful doom;And shade thy consecrated earth With the dark marble's sable gloom;To show the distant, humble grave "Where lies the turf on Abbot's breast"—For he, like Erin's sons, was brave— Then honour'd be his bed of rest!
- ↑ Montague Abbot, an officer of marines, who was carried from on board the Venus frigate, in the last stage of a consumption; and died at Lerwick, in the spring of 1811.