Commemorative Feelings, or Miscellaneous Poems.

TO THE MEMORY OF A LADY OF DISTINCTION.

"O TELL me! say, who are yon pensive train "That crown'd with cypress slowly tread the plain?" "Ah! know you not?" the wondering stranger said, "The Muses mourn their long‐loved sister dead. "See, to yon sacred grove they bend their way, "And, heavenly sweet! chant their funereal lay, "While each the laurel, bay, or myrtle wave, "And some fond trophy bear to deck her grave."

Then with distracted air, and eye of fire, Bathing in bitter tears his unstrung lyre, Lo Genius comes! whom grief and anguish rend, For he, alas! has lost his dearest friend.

He, too, to deck her tomb, prepares a wreath, But in the tears of Genius steeps each leaf. "Oh! envied fate!" the enthusiast here may cry, "Who to be so lamented would not die?"

Yet deeper woes her sable bier surround. Look at yon pensive group in sorrow drowned! In these no visionary feelings blend; No Poet's dreams their 'airy nothings' lend; The grateful heart, the cherish'd orphan's prayer, The poor man's blessing, and his tears, are there; And high‐soul'd Virtue, to misfortune driven, Who in her pity found an earlier heaven.

But, Oh! domestic Sorrow! who shall raise Thy sacred veil? Ah no! these ruder lays,

Dare not profane the tender wounded mind, Where Nature's dearest sympathies are twined. Enough of grief this feeling heart has known, To judge of others' sorrows by its own. The illustrious mourners pass in silence by, Save from each eye a tear, each breast a sigh.

From yonder sacred grove's recess profound, With triple plume, and looks that seek the ground, Lo! still another comes! with noble mien, And graceful step, to close the solemn scene; Nor heeds the Muses' melancholy train, Who as he passes touch a softer strain. He slow moves on, regardless in his grief; Nor Genius nor the Muse can yield relief. "O envied fate!" the proudest here may cry; "Who to be so lamented would not die?"