Classic Poem

Loud howl the winds around this awful pile,
A dusky light the pale-eyed moon-beams shed;
While I amid the long-drawn cloister'd isle,
Silent and sad, the letter'd pavement tread

Where, low in earth — — ah! never more to rise,
Unnotic'd, unregarded, and unknown,
Full many a shrouded student sleeping lies,
O'er whom still weeps the monumental stone.

Here, as I pace the hallow'd gloom along
Where at this hour no other foot dares rove;
Quick on my mind what dear ideas throng,
How heaves my heart, and melts with faithful love.

See, see my Chloe rises to my view,
In all the pride of youth and virtue's charms!
Swift as the winds the fair one I pursue,
But clasp an empty phantom to my arms.

Methinks I see the dance's circling round,
The cheerful music, hark! methinks, I hear!
The viol sweet, and hautboy's gladsome sound,
And sprightly tabor strike my wondering ear.

But ah! again the pleasing dream is gone;
Swift as the gales, see! see! it flies away;
And leaves me wretched, darkling, and alone,
Amidst this melancholy scene to stray.

O! hear, ye gods, accept my humble pray'r!
Grant me, O! grant my heart's fond, best desire;
Give to my faithful arms, my constant Fair;
Give this — — nor wealth, nor honours I require.