Classic Poem

OCCASIONED BY OFTEN DREAMING

Of a Deceased Friend.

A H friend belov'd! who, when in human mould,
With care assiduous watch'd my infant hours,
Anxious to see the tender plant unfold,
Anxious to rear the frail expanding flowers.

Ah friend belov'd! whose sorrows oft hath drown'd
Thy Julia's cheek with sympathetic tears,
When the stern world upon thy fortunes frown'd,
Or pains incessant rack'd thy drooping years.

Thy form, familiar to my mental sight,
Thy sufferings, grav'd on mem'ry's living scroll,
Employ the passing vision of the night,
And fill with pensive retrospect my soul.

Unbodied spirit! dost thou yet retain
The strong affinity of mortal ties?
Still dost thou hovering round my couch remain,
And give thy image to my closing eyes?

Oft to thy friendly bosom have I fled,
When sharp affliction stung my youthful heart,
And art thou, long th' associate of the dead,
Yet recollective of thy wonted part?

My matron cares do these thy pity move,
As did the anguish of my childish years?
Would'st thou renew thy offices of love,
Relieve my griefs, and dissipate my fears?

'Tis surely thus, when sleep awhile suspends
The deadly pressure of this clay machine,
The mind springs forth to meet departed friends,
And catch a prospect of the world unseen.

Th' unbounded soul, from cumbrous matter free,
Feels a short foretaste of its future powers.
It cleaves the air, it penetrates the sea,
Enjoys resplendent suns, and fairy bowers.

Fancy, while judgement sleeps, with mingled hues
Depicts each past occurrence of the day;
And now she blends them with gay festal views;
Now fills the scene with horror and dismay.

Whate'er she fables, her existence shews
A principle, to matter unallied,
Whose ever active essence scorns repose,
Nor needs corporeal organs to decide.

The sleep of Nature never could o'er cloud,
Oh wonderous soul! thy intellectual ray.
Nor shall the silent tomb and winding shroud
Hush thee in slumber 'till time's final day.

No long suspension of the conscious mind,
No rest to unrepentent guilt, is giv'n,
Nor must the dying Christian wait to find
The sure, the promis'd, recompence of heav'n.

The enraptur'd soul, all base alloy remov'd,
Sees all around it worlds of bliss arise:
Or hovering o'er the friends in life belov'd,
Assist their painful journey to the skies.

Delightful hope! then still is Mary near,
My nobler being now her care sustains,
My tender friend, my Guardian Angel here,
My future pilot to the heav'nly plains.