Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ON THE DEATH OF MY DEAR BROTHER, RICHARD FLATMAN; PINDARIC ODE, by THOMAS FLATMAN


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ON THE DEATH OF MY DEAR BROTHER, RICHARD FLATMAN; PINDARIC ODE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Unhappy muse! Employ'd so oft
Last Line: Then some kind friend perhaps may drop one tear for me.
Subject(s): Brothers; Death; Half-brothers; Dead, The


Stanza I.

UNHAPPY Muse! employ'd so oft
On melancholy thoughts of Death,
What hast thou left so tender, and so soft
As thy poor master fain would breath
O'er this lamented hearse?
No usual flight of fancy can become
My sorrows o'er a brother's tomb.
O that I could be elegant in tears,
That with conceptions, not unworthy thee,
Great as thy merit, vigorous as thy years,
I might convey thy elegy
To th' grief and envy of posterity!
A gentler youth ne'er crown'd his parents' cares,
Or added ampler joy to their grey hairs:
Kind to his friends, to his relations dear,
Easy to all. -- Alas! what is there here
For man to set his heart upon,
Since what we dote on most is soonest gone?
Ai me! I've lost a sweet companion,
A friend, a brother all in one!

II.

How did it chill my soul to see thee lie
Struggling with pangs in thy last agony!
When with a manly courage thou didst brave
Approaching Death, and with a steady mind
(Ever averse to be confin'd)
Didst triumph o'er the Grave.
Thou mad'st no womanish moan,
But scorn'dst to give one groan:
He that begs pity is afraid to die,
Only the brave despise their destiny.
But, when I call to mind how thy kind eyes
Were passionately fix'd on mine,
How, when thy falt'ring tongue gave o'er
And I could hear thy pleasing voice no more;
How, when I laid my cheek to thine,
Kiss'd thy pale lips, and press'd thy trembling hand,
Thou, in return, smil'dst gently in my face,
And hugg'dst me with a close embrace;
I am amaz'd, I am unmann'd.
Something extremely kind I fain would say,
But through the tumult of my breast,
With too officious love opprest,
I find my feeble words can never force their way.

III.

Beloved youth! What shall I do!
Once my delight, my torment now!
How immaturely art thou snatch'd away!
But Heaven shines on thee with many a glorious ray
Of an unclouded and immortal day,
Whilst I lie grovelling here below
In a dark stormy night.
The blust'ring storm of Life with thee is o'er,
For thou art landed on that happy shore,
Where thou canst hope or fear no more;
Thence with compassion thou shalt see
The plagues, the wars, the fires, the scarcity,
The devastations of an enemy,
From which thy early fate has set thee free;
For when thou went'st to thy long home,
Thou wert exempt from all the ills to come,
And shalt hereafter be
Spectator only of the tragedy
Acted on frail mortality.
So some one lucky mariner
From shipwreck sav'd by a propitious star,
Advanc'd upon a neighb'ring rock looks down,
And sees far off his old companions drown.

IV.

There in a state of perfect ease,
Of never interrupted happiness,
Thy large illuminated mind
Shall matter of eternal wonder find;
There dost thou clearly see how, and from whence
The stars communicate their influence,
The methods of th' Almighty Architect,
How He consulted with Himself alone
To lay the wondrous corner-stone,
When He this goodly fabric did erect.
There, thou dost understand
The motions of the secret hand,
That guides th' invisible wheel,
Which here, we ne'er shall know, but ever feel;
There Providence, the vain man's laughing-stock,
The miserable good-man's stumbling-block,
Unfolds the puzzling riddle to thy eyes,
And its own wise contrivance justifies.
What timorous man wouldn't be pleas'd to die,
To make so noble a discovery?

V.

And must I take my solemn leave
Till time shall be no more!
Can neither sighs, nor tears, nor prayers retrieve
One cheerful hour!
Must one unlucky moment sever
Us, and our hopes, us and our joys for ever! --
Is this cold clod of Earth that endear'd Thing
I lately did my Brother call?
Are these the artful fingers that might vie
With all the sons of harmony
And overpower them all!
Is this the studious comprehensive head
With curious arts so richly furnished!
Alas! thou, and thy glories all are gone,
Buried in darkness, and oblivion.
Tis so -- and I must follow thee,
Yet but a little while, and I shall see thee,
Yet but a little while I shall be with thee,
Then some kind friend perhaps may drop one tear for me.





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