Classic Poem

INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF

M. M. HAYS, Esq.

Here sleepest thou, Man of Soul! Thy spirit flown,
How dark and tenantless its desert clay!
Cold is that heart, which throbbed at sorrows moan?
Untuned that tongue, which charmed the social day?

Where now the Wit, by generous roughness graced?
Or Friendship's accent, kindling as it fell?
Or Bounty's stealing foot, whose step untraced
Had watched pale Want, and stored her famished cell?

Alas, 'tis all thou art! whose vigorous mind
Inspiring force to Truth and Feeling gave,
Whose rich resources equal power combined,
The gay to brighten, and instruct the grave!

Farewell, Adieu! Sweet Peace thy vigils keep;
For Pilgrim Virtue sojourns here to weep!