Marino! welcome from the western shore,
Welcome to Britain! to thy friend once more:
Why silent thus? Why this dejected air?
The melancholy cause let Damon hear.
By some fair tyrant has my friend been crost?
Or was his cargo in a tempest lost?
Or to what more disastrous accident,
Must I impute these signs of discontent?
Marino.
Impute ’em to a loss that human pow’r
Can née’er retrieve . . . . Amintas is no more!
Damon.
Forbid it Heav'n . . . .
Marino.
. . . .Yes ’tis a fatal truth. . .
Cold in the earth, lies the lamented youth.
Damon.
Then died the man, the muse so oft inspir'd;
Belov'd so justly, and so much admir’d;
In whom, with wit, sincerity was join’d,
A pleasant, generous, and a faithful friend.
Marino.
Merit, like his, cou’d ne’er be long unknown,
His native Britain saw it not alone ;
Where’er he came distinguish’d it appear’d,
At ev’ry port Amintas was rever'd,
Scarce was our Philadelphia in his view,
Before his fame o’er all the province flew;
His virtues, Pennsylvania soon confest
They shone conspicuous, tho’ by fate opprest;
Fate, even there, frown’d on the bard awhile,
But smooth’d her brow, at length, and cast a flatt’ring
smile.
To him the blooming Myra yields her charms,
And faints with pleasure, folded in his arms.
A scene of affluence then attracts his view,
And he the prospect boldly does pursue;
But ere he reaches it . . . . invidious death,
At once deprives him of his hopes and breath.
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So when the heavens appear serene and gay,
Some gallant ship, now prosperous on the sea,
With colours flying and expanded sails,
Born tow’rds her port by kind, auspicious gales ;
From pirates late escap’d and storms blown o’er,
Strikes on a rock and sinks in sight of shore.
Damon.
If through the cloud of envious fortune’s frown,
The genius of Amintas radiant shone,
With what advantage had his worth been seen
Amidst her smiles, propitiously serene?
So does the glorious parent of the day,
Not his full lustre thro’ thick fogs display;
But those dispers’d, the lucid orb of light
Shoots beams around, insuperably bright.
Marino.
'Tis fortune’s common pastime to dispense
To fools her favour, scorn to men of sense;
Desert neglected with delight she sees,
And sots in gilded chariots loll at ease.
This once Amintas knew . . . . but now no more
Can feel th’ effects of her capricious pow’r.
He’s gone—the debt to Nature when he paid,
Around him swift the fatal news was spread,
And all that knew him living, mourn’d him dead.
In moving lays, our bards his worth rehearse,
(For Pennsylvania has her sons of verse,)
Lively they paint the beauties of his mind
With freedom, just, and without flatt’ry kind.
·······
But who can calm the lovely Myra’s grief,
Too mighty, ev'n for verse to give relief:
On Schuykill banks disconsolate she mourns,
Her wonted pleasure there to sorrow turns.
“Whither (she cries) dear partner of my bed,
“Ah! whither art thou from thy Myra fled?
“With thee my gay, my smiling hours are flown !
“My joy! my happiness ! my all is gone!
“Thy soft expressions I no more shall hear,
“No more thy pleasing voice delight my ear;
“My longing eyes no more be fixed on thine,
“Nor thy fond arms around thy Ayra twine.
“In thee was my felicity complete,
“In thee, the husband and the lover met . . .
“But Heav’n has snatch’d thee from me, and in vain
“I Heav'n invoke, to give thee back again.”
Thus mourns the widowed fair in sorrow drown’d
And her complaints the ambient hills resound.
Damon.
We must resign to Nature what she gave,
But fame, immortal, triumphs o’er the grave;
To distant ages virtue will survive,
Nor wit from death a period can receive.
When tombs, and what we leave with them in trust,
Appear one undistinguish’d heap of dust,
Preserv'd to late posterity by fame,
Amintas’ works shall eternize his name.
. . . But see my friend! the skies begin to low’r,
And clouds condens’d foretell a sudden show’r. .
Octavio yonder lives—there we may find
A timely shelter and reception kind.