Classic Poem

Here let Compassion bend her head,
And tears of tender sorrow shed,
And warm enthusiasm musing tread,
To pour his sighs.

Let gay Prosperity forego
Awhile the scenes of pomp and show,
To view this last retreat from woe,
Where Genius lies

Let the fond youth of humble name,
Inspir'd by fancy's kindling flame,
Whose heart beats high with hopes of fame,
Seek this lone tomb;

Here let him firmly learn to bear
Stern disappointment's blow severe,
And all the evils life can fear,
Lest such his doom.

Let those who unreflecting stray,
Where ardent feelings lead the way,
Neglecting reason's cooler sway,
Come here to mourn.

Let Sculpture teach the stone to breathe
O'er the unconscious dust beneath,
Let Genius twine her brightest wreath
Round this sad urn.

But ah! can all this vain parade,
This useless show of honour paid
Departed talents, soothe his shade,
For former woes?

For the deep anguish of his heart,
Pierc'd by affliction's keenest dart,
Which, with intolerable smart,
To madness rose;

And, in an hour of dark despair,
Made him the unknown future dare,
In hope to find oblivion there,
And calm repose.