REFLECTIONS IN A CHURCH-YARD.
All hail ye peaceful scenes, in whose still plain
Sweet solitude and melancholy dwell;
Where uncontrolled awe doth pensive reign,
And rev’rence muses in each silent cell.
With mem’ry’s retrospective eye I view
These ghastly figures—(loathsome to the eyes)
These are the skulls of those I lately knew,
The once adored, beautiful, and wise!
The statesman and the clown here peaceful lie,
The slave for liberty don’t here dispute:
With death’s decree Neptune and Mars comply,
And patriotic eloquence lies mute!
When Sol the East with blushes does adorn;
The rose expands her leaves to every ray:
Tho’ thus compos’d of beauty in the morn,
At eve she bows her head and doth decay.
So lies the maid who once with beauty blest,
And at whose feet youths supplicating lay,
While beauty reign’d she was by them carest:
But none pays tribute to her breathless clay.
Each silent tomb methinks lets fall a tear,
While ev’ry grave in plaintive accents say;
“In pride of youth like you we did appear,
“But you like us, must moulder and decay.”
“Ye sons of dissipation, new pursue
“The paths of rectitude—for short’s the span,
“Remember while these monuments you view,
“The chiefest study of mankind is man.”