Who Departed This Life _March 14, 1796_.
Vain are the loveliest virtues of the heart,
The charms of beauty and of youth are vain
To stop thy progress Death, to turn thy dart,
Or the beloved spirit to retain.
Else Margaretta still had blest our sight,
Nor sad affection wept upon her tomb;
Yet boast not, Death, for hope’s celestial light
Points to a place where thou canst never come.
There friends shall meet on Heaven’s eternal shore;
There we shall triumph when thou art no mare.
New-York, _Sept. 17, 1796_.
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_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._
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WRITTEN DURING THE STORM ON WEDNESDAY LAST, THE _15th_ INST.
The awful thunder rolls repeated peals,
And by its grandeur wakes the careless soul
To sense of thee, the Author all divine:
Thee the dispenser of such mighty pow’r,
To man’s dark soul incomprehensible.
Now fierce and keen the livid lightning flies
In course irregular--the blazing heav’ns
Seem wrapt in flame; the timid earth,
Affrighted at the scene, beneath our feet,
Shakes with the strong convulsion;
Now renew’d, with still increasing force,
Is heard the dreadful near approaching sound,
Which swiftly following the repeated fire,
Calls up dread apprehension of th’ effect;
Perhaps this moment--on our friend awaits
Instant destruction--by the mighty hand
Of Heav’n remov’d, inseparate to view
Thy glory rolling in bright realms above;
Or, under covert of some lofty oak,
Th’ affrighted cattle find their last retreats;
And in the gen’ral conflict swift expire.
Not so the soul refin’d, the views serene,
The solemn scene around--in wonder lost,
And contemplation of the great Supreme.
Thou whose strong arm supports these numerous worlds,
Rolling the year in periods various:
Thou who canst keep her ’midst ten thousand fears,
Safe from all harm, secure from ev’ry woe,
Thee She adores--and trusting all to thee,
In pious resignation waits th’ event.----