GRIM, KING OF THE GHOSTS,
OR THE DANCE OF DEATH.
Port Folio, II-199, June 26, 1802, Phila.
[M. G. Lewis, Tales of Terror. Cf. p. [18].]
ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED ONLY SON.
Translated from a Danish Inscription.
By T. Campbell, Esq.
Port Folio, II-352, Nov. 1802, Phila.
WRITTEN IN GERMANY,
IN AUTUMN, 1801.
Hail, deadly Autumn, and thy fading leaf,
I love thee, drear and gloomy as thou art;
Not joyful Spring, like thee can soften grief,
Nor gaudy Summer soothe the aching heart;
But in thy cheerless, solitary bower,
Beneath the varied shade, I love to lie,
When dusky Evening's melancholy hour
With boding clouds obscures the low'ring sky,
And tuneless birds and fading flowers appear
In grief to hang their heads, and mourn the parting year.
'Tis not the gloomy sky, the parting year,
'Tis not the Winter's dreary reign I mourn,
But absent friends—and one than life more dear,
And joys departed, never to return!
O gentle Hope, that 'mid Siberia's snows,
Can cheer the wretched exile's lingering year,
And where the sun on curs'd Oppression glows,
Can check the sigh, and wipe the falling tear,
Thy gentle care—thy succour I implore;
O raise thy heavenly voice, and bid me weep no more.