Ode on the Death of Mr. Thomson

(The scene of the following stanzas is supposed to lieon the Thames near Richmond.)

IN yonder grave a Druid liesWhere slowly winds the stealing wave!The year’s best sweets shall duteous riseTo deck its Poet's sylvan grave!

In yon deep bed of whispering reedsHis airy harp shall now be laid,That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds,May love thro' life the soothing shade.

Then maids and youths shall linger here,And while its sounds at distance swell,Shall sadly seem in Pity’s ear,To hear the Woodland Pilgrim’s knell.

Remembrance oft shall haunt the shoreWhen Thames in summer wreaths is drest,And oft suspend the dashing oarTo bid his gentle spirit rest!

And oft as Ease and Health retireTo breezy lawn, or forest deep,The friend shall view yon whitening spire,And 'mid the varied landscape weep.

But Thou, who own'st that earthy bed,Ah! what will every dirge avail?Or tears which Love and Pity shedThat mourn beneath the gliding sail!

Yet lives there one, whose heedless eye,Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimm'ring near?With him, sweet bard, may Fancy die,And Joy desert the blooming year.

But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tideNo sedge-crown'd Sisters now attend,Now waft me from the green hill's sideWhose cold turf hides the buried friend!

And see the fairy valleys fade,Dun Night has veil'd the solemn view!Yet once again, dear parted shade,Meek Natur's Child, again adieu!

The genial meads assign'd to blessThy life, shall mourn thy early doom,Their hinds, and shepherd-girls shall dressWith simple hands thy rural tomb.

Long, long, thy stone, and pointed clay,Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes,O! vales, and wild woods, shall he say,In yonder grave Your Druid lies!