Yes! ye dear buried inmates of my mind!
Your converse still within these walls I find;
In hours of study, and in hours of rest,
You still to me my purest thoughts suggest:
My heart's propensities you cherish still
To Heaven thanksgiving! and to earth good-will!
In you I still behold affection's smile,
Which can all troubles of the heart beguile;
I hear your kind approvance of my zeal,
When, anxious all your merits to reveal,
Having consign'd your bones to sacred earth,
My mind aspir'd to memorize your worth.
Grateful employment of the feeling soul!
That, in despite of sorrow's dark controul
Keeps the pure form of deathless virtue bright
By just commemoration's soothing light!
For such employment thou wast aptly made,
Thou dear sequester'd cell! in whose calm shade
Thy lonely bard might suit his plaintive strain,
To solemn music from the murmuring main!
Belov'd marine retreat! I oft recall
The night, I first repos'd within thy wall:
A night devoted, at a friend's desire,
To touch the chords of a sepulchral lyre!
Touch'd not in vain!--The faithful tribute brought
To cureless grief the lenitive, she sought;
And Lushington, thro' tearful anguish, smil'd
On truth's memorial of her darling child.
Little I thought, when eager to bestow
The heart's pure offering on parental woe,