Answer to a Beautiful Poem

Montgomery! true, the common lotOf mortals lies in Lethe's wave;Yet some shall never be forgot,Some shall exist beyond the grave.

"Unknown the region of his birth,"The hero rolls the tide of war;Yet not unknown his martial worth,Which glares a meteor from afar.

His joy or grief, his weal or woe,Perchance may 'scape the page of fame;Yet nations, now unborn, will knowThe record of his deathless name.

The Patriot's and the Poet's frameMust share the common tomb of all:Their glory will not sleep the same;That will arise, though Empires fall.

The lustre of a Beauty's eyeAssumes the ghastly stare of death;The fair, the brave, the good must die,And sink the yawning grave beneath.

Once more, the speaking eye revives,Still beaming through the lover's strain;For Petrarch's Laura still survives:She died, but ne'er will die again.

The rolling seasons pass away,And Time, untiring, waves his wing;Whilst honour's laurels ne'er decay,But bloom in fresh, unfading spring.

All, all must sleep in grim repose,Collected in the silent tomb;The old, the young, with friends and foes,Fest'ring alike in shrouds, consume.

The mouldering marble lasts its day,Yet falls at length an useless fane;To Ruin's ruthless fangs a prey,The wrecks of pillar'd Pride remain.

What, though the sculpture be destroy'd,From dark Oblivion meant to guard;A bright renown shall be enjoy'd,By those, whose virtues claim reward.

Then do not say the common lotOf all lies deep in Lethe's wave;Some few who ne'er will be forgotShall burst the bondage of the grave.

1806.