: Poems (1828) by Gent Thomas - Poetry

@FreeBooksTue 06 Jun, 2023

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POEMS.

Tis sweet in boyhood's visionary mood, When glowing Fancy, innocently gay, Flings forth, like motes, her bright a?rial brood, To dance and shine in Hope's prolific ray; 'Tis sweet, unweeting how the flight of years May darkling roll in trials and in tears, To dress the future in what garb we list, And shape the thousand joys that never may exist. But he, sad wight! of all that feverish train, Fool'd by those phantoms of the wizard brain, Most wildly dotes, whom young ambition stings To trust his weight upon poetic wings; He, downward looking in his airy ride, Beholds Elysium bloom on every side; Unearthly bliss each thrilling nerve attunes, And thus the dreamer with himself communes. Yes! Earth shall witness, 'ere my star be set, That partial nature mark'd me for her pet; That Phoebus doom'd me, kind indulgent sire! To mount his car, and set the world on fire. Fame's steep ascent by easy flights to win, With a neat pocket volume I'll begin; And dirge, and sonnet, ode, and epigram, Shall show mankind how versatile I am. The buskin'd Muse shall next my pen descry: The boxes from their inmost rows shall sigh; The pit shall weep, the galleries deplore Such moving woes as ne'er were heard before: Enough--I'll leave them in their soft hysterics, Mount, in a brighter blaze, and dazzle with Homerics.

MATURE REFLECTIONS.

O Love! divinest dream of youth, Thy day of ecstacy is o'er, My bosom, touch'd by time and truth, Thrills at thy dear deceits no more.

Nor thou, Ambition! e'er again, With splendour dazzling to betray, And aspirations fierce and vain, Shall tempt my steps--away! away!

Alas! by stern Experience cleft, When life's romance is turn'd to sport; If man hath consolation left On this side death--'tis good old port.

THE GRAVE OF DIBDIN.

The youthful Sailor on his midnight watch, Fixing his gaze upon the tranquil moon, Felt his heart soften as the thoughts of home Rush'd on his faithful memory;--then it was In language meet, and in appropriate strains-- Strains which thy lyre had taught him--he pour'd forth The feelings of his soul, and all was calm.

Thy Spirit still presides in that carouse, When to "the Far away" the toast is given, And "absent Wives and Sweethearts" claim their right, With Woman's constancy thy songs are rife; And this pure creed still teaches Man t' endure Privations, danger, and each form of death.

When not a breath responded to the call, And Seamen whistled to the winds in vain; When the loose canvass droop'd in lazy folds, And idle pennants dangled from the mast;-- There, in that trying moment, thou wert found To teach the hardest lesson man can learn-- Passive endurance--and the breeze has sprung, As if obedient to the voice of Song:-- And yet unhonour'd here thy ashes lie!

A nobler lesson learn'd the gallant Tar From his Orphean lyre--to temper right The lion's courage with the attributes That to the gentle and the meek belong; O'er fallen foes to check the eye of fire-- O'er fallen foes to soften heart of oak.

He turn'd the Fatalist's rash eye to Him In whom the issues are of life and death; He taught to whom the battle is--to whom The victory belongs. His cherub, that aloft Kept sleepless watch, was Providence--not Chance.

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