Poems (Sewell)/Elegy on the Death of the Daughter of Mrs. Britten
AN ELEGY,WRITTEN BY DESIRE OF MRS. BRITTEN, OF BATH, TO THE MEMORY OF HER DAUGHTER.
How shall the Muse perform her mournful part,
Or reach the feelings of a Parent's heart?
When sharp excessive grief corrodes the soul,
Tis Time's alone the anguish to controul,
To lend the ray that drooping Sorrow chears,
And give a precious luxury to our tears.
Or rather say, that Heaven that ray supplies,
And grants that comfort which the world denies,
Oh thou, whom all revere, and she, whose flight
Has snatch'd her from thy fond devoted sight!
Think, had she lived, to grief and care a prey,
And pin'd whole years of hopeless youth away,
Weary of life, and hopeless of relief,
The patient victim of consuming grief;
That grief, alas, which knows but one sad cure,
And even the noblest bosoms may endure!
How had thy gen'rous heart, in anguish bled,
To mark the transient roses as they fled;
To see the languid eye suppress the tear,
(That eye which even thy presence cou'd not chear)
While those beloved lips resign'd their hue,
A mournful prelude to their last adieu!
For thee the struggling sigh, in vain supprest,
Had stole a cautions passage from the breast;
Whilst all thy soul, on ev'ry look had dwelt,
With all that ere a mother's fondness felt!
Remov'd from sickness, sorrow, and from care,
Behold the darling child thou coud'st not spare;
Behold her! in the Realms of Joy compleat,
Secure from folly, falsehood, or deceit.
No gay temptation—no enchanting dream,
Nor transient joy, nor Hope's delusive beam,
Nor aught that here distracts frail human worth,
Can tempt an Angel to the realms of earth.
Short was the trial, and the task is o'er;
The glorious Spirit will return no more.
Or reach the feelings of a Parent's heart?
When sharp excessive grief corrodes the soul,
Tis Time's alone the anguish to controul,
To lend the ray that drooping Sorrow chears,
And give a precious luxury to our tears.
Or rather say, that Heaven that ray supplies,
And grants that comfort which the world denies,
Oh thou, whom all revere, and she, whose flight
Has snatch'd her from thy fond devoted sight!
Think, had she lived, to grief and care a prey,
And pin'd whole years of hopeless youth away,
Weary of life, and hopeless of relief,
The patient victim of consuming grief;
That grief, alas, which knows but one sad cure,
And even the noblest bosoms may endure!
How had thy gen'rous heart, in anguish bled,
To mark the transient roses as they fled;
To see the languid eye suppress the tear,
(That eye which even thy presence cou'd not chear)
While those beloved lips resign'd their hue,
A mournful prelude to their last adieu!
For thee the struggling sigh, in vain supprest,
Had stole a cautions passage from the breast;
Whilst all thy soul, on ev'ry look had dwelt,
With all that ere a mother's fondness felt!
Remov'd from sickness, sorrow, and from care,
Behold the darling child thou coud'st not spare;
Behold her! in the Realms of Joy compleat,
Secure from folly, falsehood, or deceit.
No gay temptation—no enchanting dream,
Nor transient joy, nor Hope's delusive beam,
Nor aught that here distracts frail human worth,
Can tempt an Angel to the realms of earth.
Short was the trial, and the task is o'er;
The glorious Spirit will return no more.
Oh rapt'rous thought! that hour may come at last,
When, ev'ry pang and ev'ry conflict past,
The kindling soul its virtuous hope may claim,
Nature's soft tie, and Friendship's purest flame!
If Heaven those dear connexions will allow,
Which melt our hearts, and rend and pierce them now,
May we not hope?—'tis surely too severe,
If human wisdom blame a hope so dear!
The joyous soul, unfetter'd, unconfin'd,
Shall leave its pond'rous bars of clay behind;
But when it soars the Realms of Bliss to share,
Its joy on earth may add one transport there!
When, ev'ry pang and ev'ry conflict past,
The kindling soul its virtuous hope may claim,
Nature's soft tie, and Friendship's purest flame!
If Heaven those dear connexions will allow,
Which melt our hearts, and rend and pierce them now,
May we not hope?—'tis surely too severe,
If human wisdom blame a hope so dear!
The joyous soul, unfetter'd, unconfin'd,
Shall leave its pond'rous bars of clay behind;
But when it soars the Realms of Bliss to share,
Its joy on earth may add one transport there!