ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
My Heav'n-born soul! by body unconfin'd,
Leave that low tenement, and roam abroad;
Forestall the time, when, left each clog behind,
Thy flight shall mount where never mortal trod.
Ev'n now, methinks, upborne in tranced dreams,
The disencumber'd essence tries its wings;
Sees better planets, basks in brighter beams,
To purer sight mysterious symbols brings,
Of unconceiv'd, unutterable things.
Though dust return'd to dust the worms devour,
Thee, can dread death annihilate or bind?
There, king of terrors! stops thy dreaded pow'r;
The bright assurgent from all dross refin'd,
High o'er th' immense of space regains the world of mind.
On the Death of Major JOHN PALLSGRAVE WYLLYS.
BELOV'D in life! and mourn'd in death! when slain,
Where flow'd the sanguine flood of savage war-
Where white with red* men mingling press'd the plain,
Thy bones long bleaching in lone fields afar:
Thee, Wyllys! thee, the sighing winds deplore,
Through wilds where axe-men erst no branch had fell'd:
Still mourns for thee, Ohio's peopling shore,
His groves (where late the painted warriors yell'd)
Vocal with grief, with tears his waters swell'd.
No friend was nigh to lave thy clotted wound,
Catch thy last breath, and close thy bursting eyes;
Yet thee full cities wail in woe profound-
Thy friends, thy sire, beyond funereal cries,
Stifle in dumb despair abortive groans and sighs.
*The aboriginal inhabitants of America denominate the Europeans the pale, and themselves the red flesh.
On the Murders committed by the Jacobin Faction in the early Period of the French Revolution.
WHEN heads by guillotines all ghastly fell,
As, mad for gore, o'er Gaul a faction hung;
Then giant Terror toll'd his nightly knell,
Wide on the winds the sounds of murder flung!
With agonizing shrieks each prison rung-
Nor yet the tocsin ceas'd its louder roar,
But every time it undulating swung,
Cold horror froze through every shivering pore,
For victims doom'd to view the dawn no more.
Those blood-stain'd Jacobins in turn shall fall,
Murd'rers of millions under freedom's name!
But not the blood that delug'd frantic Gaul,
In calm Columbia quenches reason's flame,
Or blots with bloody slur our fair Republic's fame.
Addressed to his Royal Highness the Prince of Brazil, on my
taking leave of the Court of Lisbon, July, 1797.
FAREWELL ye flow'ry fields! where nature's hand 1 Profusely sheds her vegetable store,
Nurtur'd by genial suns and zephyrs bland!
Farewell thou Tagus! and thy friendly shore:
Long shall my soul thy lost retreats deplore, Thy haunts where shades of heroes met my eyesAs oft I mus'd where Camoëns trod before,
I saw the godlike form of Gama rise,
With chiefs renown'd beneath yon eastern skies.
Oh, long may peace and glory crown thy sceneFarewell, just Prince! no sycophantic lay
Insults thy ear-be what thy sires have been,
Thy great progenitors! who op'd the way
Through seas unsail'd before to climes of orient day.
This Sonnet was translated into Portuguese verse by the Marshall-General, and Commander in Chief, Duke de Alafoens, the uncle of the Queen of Portugal.
On receiving the News of the Death of General WASHINGTON.
HARK! friends! what sobs of sorrow, moans of grief,
On every gale, through every region spread!
Hark! how the western world bewails our chief,
Great Washington, his country's father dead!
Our living light expiring with his breath,
His bright example still illumes our way
Through the dark valley of thy shadow, death!
To realms on high of life without decay,
Faint, he relied on heav'nly help alone,
While conscience cheer'd th' inevitable hour;
When fades the glare of grandeur, pomp of pow'r,
And all the pageantry that gems a throne:
Then from his hallow'd track, who shall entice
Columbia's sons to tread the paths of vice?
FAREWELL,
FROM THE ABBE O'MOORE,
TO THE HONOURABLE DAVID HUMPHREYS, Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States of America, at the Court of Madrid.
THEE, Humphreys! I address, since ev'n thy name
Can in cold bosoms light a poet's flame;
And well it suits an humble muse like mine,
Prostrate to own the dignity of thine.
This day each maid that haunts the sacred spring,
Salutes the infant year from every string;
Save mine, who lonely vales and woods among,
Her hair dishevell❜d and her harp unstrung,
Weeps that, like Philomel, thou soon wilt fly
To distant groves, beneath another sky.
Oh, how unlike the proud when rais'd to rank, Too swol❜n to move within their natʼral bank, Who, soon o'erflowing, with resistless force, Break down each bridge of social intercourse!
Humphreys has strength of character to bear,
Unmov'd, all fortunes in a lofty sphere;
Beneath his feet repulsive pride to throw,
And stoop with dignity to those below.
But if his country bids, in arduous hour,
He, bold, asserts his ministerial power;
And mildly stubborn, ev'n before a throne,
Supports his nation's honour and his own.
So of himself an emblem is his muse,
Both ever quick the proper tone to choose ;-
From her how unaffected flows the strain,
Whene'er she treads the woodland and the plain;
But when her trumpet sounds the rough alarms,
And calls Columbia's patriot sons to arms;
Then fierce and spirited the note she pours,
And hosts rise thund'ring, "Freedom shall be ours!"
Blest Poet, Patriot, Warrior, oh, that long
Thy life may charm with virtue and with song!
FAREWELL! and gentle as thy partner's mind,
May'st thou thy passage to thy country find:
Charm'd OCEAN emulate her placid soul,
Nor storms arise, nor angry billows roll;
But waft both swiftly o'er his rude domains,
To those, by Humphreys made, immortal plains;
Where first by Freedom and by genius taught,
Alike he sweetly sung and bravely fought.
WILLIAM O'MOORE,
Chaplain to his Catholic Majesty's Foot Walloon Guards.
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