( 428 ) 

 A DAY AT COWPER'S TOMB. 



ON FIRST SEEING DEREHAM CHURCH, WHERE THE POET IS INTERRED. 



BENEATH the shadow of yon ancient tower, 



Asleep in death, while many are not old 

 Who saw the passing of thy funeral hour, 



Thou restest all thy griefs at length controll'd. 

 The stranger witnesses this sylvan slope, 



These roofs half hid, and yet he heeds them not ; 

 Or heeding, is not stricken with the hope 



Of meeting aught uncommon in this spot : 

 Yet here, hereafter, oft shall virtues come, 



In willing pilgrimage, to view the shrine 

 Of one, who oft struck erring genius dumb, 



And bid her, rob'd in purity, outshine. 

 Here, till reward is given to the just, 

 The bones of Cowper moulder into dust. 



ON THE POET S INFIRMITIES. 



How delicate those links which form the chain 



Of human reason, and how quickly marr'd ! 

 For, if too fine and sensible, how vain 



The hope the chain unbroken can be spar'd. 

 A man in age the child of fancy weaves 



Though mouldering still garlands of fresh hope, 

 Until the cold world blights them all, and leaves 



Him madly in despondency to grope. 

 Ill-fated bard ! full dearly didst thou pay 



For thy blest gift of gentle poesy ; 

 Ah, who would covet its divinest ray, 



If, for possession, this the price must be ? - 

 But surely they who hastily infer 

 Religion cans' d thy madness greatly err. 



ON NOTICING, AT THE POET*S TOMB, THAT " THE TASK " RESTS AGAINST 

 "THE HOLY BIBLE, "BOTH BEING ENWREATHED WITH AN OLIVE BRANCH. 



HAPPY the man whose writings all shall lean, 



As thine, upon the Bible for support ; 

 He need not weep, though they, as thine have been, 



Become of ribald mockery the sport. 

 Old Time shall reverence them, and when his scythe 



Is rais'd to cut their memories away, 

 His nerveless arm, for booty ne'er more lithe, 



Shall drop, unable to make them his prey. 

 Thrice be the gratitude of all the good, 



Who travel after thee on life's rough path ; 

 Of grace full many a promising young bud 



Through thee may ripen into holy faith ; 

 Thy dark despair may cause their own to cease, 

 And prove to them the olive-branch of peace. 



