At eutaw Springs the valiant died:
Their limbs with dust are covered o’er;
Weep on, ye springs, your tearful tide;
How many heroes are no more!
If in this wreck of ruin they
Can yet be thought to claim a tear,
O smite thy gentle breast, and say
The friends of freedom slumber here!
Thou, who shalt trace this bloody...
Here—for they could not help but die—
The daughters of the Rose-Bush lie:
Here rest, interred without a stone,
What dear Lucinda gave to none,—
What forward beau, or curious belle,
Could hardly touch, and rarely smell.
Dear Rose! of all the blooming kind
You had a happier place assigned,
And nearer grew to all that ’s fair,...
The turtle on yon withered bough,
That lately mourned her murdered mate,
Has found another comrade now—
Such changes all await!
Again her drooping plume is drest,
Again she ’s willing to be blest
And takes her lover to her nest.
If nature has decreed it so
With all above, and all below,
Let us like them forget our woe,...
Fair flower, that dost so comely grow,
Hid in this silent, dull retreat,
Untouched thy honied blossoms blow,
Unseen thy little branches greet:
No roving foot shall crush thee here,
No busy hand provoke a tear.
By Nature’s self in white arrayed,
She bade thee shun the vulgar eye,
And planted here the guardian shade...
In spite of all the learned have said,
I still my old opinion keep;
The posture that we give the dead
Points out the soul’s eternal sleep.
Not so the ancients of these lands;—
The Indian, when from life released,
Again is seated with his friends,
And shares again the joyous feast.
His imaged birds, and painted bowl,...
Death in this tomb his weary bones hath laid,
Sick of dominion o’er the human kind;
Behold what devastations he hath made,
Survey the millions by his arm confined.
“Six thousand years has sovereign sway been mine,
None but myself can real glory claim;
Great Regent of the world I reigned alone,
And princes trembled when my mandate came...
The man that joins in life’s career
And hopes to find some comfort here,
To rise above this earthly mass,—
The only way ’s to drink his glass.
But still, on this uncertain stage
Where hopes and fears the soul engage,
And while, amid the joyous band,
Unheeded flows the measured sand,
Forget not as the moments pass
That...
Where now these mingled ruins lie
A temple once to Bacchus rose,
Beneath whose roof, aspiring high,
Full many a guest forgot his woes.
No more this dome, by tempests torn,
Affords a social safe retreat;
But ravens here, with eye forlorn,
And clustering bats henceforth will meet
The Priestess of this ruined shrine,...
On scent of game from town to town he flew,
The soldier’s curse pursued him on his way;
Care in his eye, and anguish on his brow,
He seemed a sea-hawk watching for his prey.
With soothing words the widow’s mite he gained,
With piercing glance watched misery’s dark abode,
Filched paper scraps while yet a scrap remained,
Bought...
His soul extracted from the public sink,
For discord born he splasht around his ink;
In scandal foremost, as by scandal fed,
He hourly rakes the ashes of the dead.
Secure from him no traveller walks the streets,
His malice sees a foe in all he meets;
With dark design he treads his daily rounds,
Kills where he can, and, where he cannot,...
