Come Melancholy! silent pow'r,

Companion of my lonely hour,

   To sober thought confin'd.

Thou sweet sad ideal guest,

In all thy soothing charms confest,

    Indulge my pensive mind.

 

No longer wildly hurried thro'

The tides of mirth that ebb and flow,

   In folly's noisy stream:

I from the busy croud retire,

To count the objects that inspire

    Thy philosophic dream.

 

Thro' yon dark grove of mournful yews

With solitary steps I muse

   By thy direction led:

Here cold to pleasure's tempting forms,

Consociate with my sister - worms,

   And mingle with the dead.

 

Ye midnight horrors! aweful gloom!

Ye silent regions of the tomb,

   My future peaceful bed:

Here shall my weary eyes be clou'd,

And ev'ry sorrow lie repos'd

   In death's refreshing shade.

 

Ye pale inhabitants of night,

Before my intellectual sight

    In solemn pomp ascend:

O tell how trifling now appears

The train of idle hopes and fears

   That varying life attend.

 

Ye faithful idols of our sense,

Here own how vain your fond pretence,

   Ye empty names of joy!

Your transient forms like shadows pass,

Frail offspring of the magic glass,

   Before the mental eye.

 

The dazzling colours, falsely bright,

Attract the gazing vulgar sight

   With superficial state:

Thro' reasons clearer optics view'd,

How stript of all its pomp, how rude

   Appears the painted cheat.

 

Can wild ambition's tyrant pow'r,

Or ill-got wealth's superfluous store,

   The dread of death control?

Can pleasure's more bewitching charms

Avert, or sooth the dire alarms

   That shake the parting soul?

 

Religion! e'er the hand of fate

Shall make reflexion plead too late.

   My erring sense teach.

Amidst the flattering hopes of youth,

To mediate the solemn truth,

   These anoful relic's preach.

 

Thy penetrating beams disperse

The mist of error, whence out fears

   Derive their fatal spring:

'Tis thine the trembing heart to warm,

And soften to an angel form

   The pale terrific king.

 

When sunk by quiet in sad despair,

Repentance breathes her humble pray'r,

   And owns thy threat'nings just:

Thy voice the shudd'ring suppliant chears,

With mercy calms her tort'ring fears,

   And lifts her from the dust.

 

Sublim'd by thee, the soul aspires

Beyond the range of low desires,

   In nobler views elate:

Unmov'd her destin'd change surveys,

And, arm'd by faith, intrepid pays

   The universal debt.

 

In death's soft slumber lull'd to rest,

She sleeps, by smiling visions blest,

   That gently whisper peace:

'Till the last morn's fair of'ring ray

Unfolds the bright eternal day

   Of active life and bliss.