Wlliam Gilmore Simms
The Simms Review (Vol 16: No 2) >> Monody, on the Death of Gen. Charles Cotesworth Pinckney >> Page 20

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Page 20

Poetry | 1825
Transcription 11

I saw the wanderer as with anxious eye
He gazed, on early prospects with a sigh.
Grief rear'd a mournful trophy in his breat,--
And came to worship--an accustomed guest.
But memory, colder still, each object bears,
Renew'd, and glowing thro' the vale of years,
Hers is the lot, to paint again those joys
That time still brightens, e'en whilst he destroys;
Gilding each by-gone glory with a light
And lustre, that but leads away the sight,
While the young heart feels every joy renew'd.
Till it awakes--and finds all solitude!

The desert hath its trophies, columns stand,
Alone, amid the wilderness--the hand
Is lost that rear'd them--and the speechless stone
But tells, like sepulchre's that it is gone!
Heartless memorials! mean requires not these
Dull emblems, to relate the proud degrees
Of greatness he hath numberes, and they fade
And lost their notices as soon as made!
Wouldst thou, vain greatness, learn the powerful spell
Of rearing trophies, that to woulds shall tell
Thy glories, when thyself hath past away--
Long ages, to the regions of decay?
Bid not the column rise to mark the pride
That God, who stamp's thee, Creature, hath denied.