The Rhode Island American, And General Advertiser

Poetry.

MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.

Purpureoe spargam flores animamque parentis
His saltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani
Munere,
VIRGIL.

Dear is the spot to fond affection's gaze,
Where the lov'd ashes of a Mother lie;
Where fun'ral cypress spread a gloomy maze,
And lingering breezes breathe a mournful sigh.
There sleep and mingle with their native clay,
Those eyes that beam'd beneficence divine,
That view'd my early smiles and infant play,
And spoke fondness with a look benign.
Press'd by the damp cold earth, forever clos'd.
There mould'ring lie within that dark retreat,
Those lips whence musick's softest numbers flow'd.
That wak'd to joy, that charm'd with accents sweet.
That heart that thrill'd with joy or sunk in pain,
As joy or grief my youthful bosom mov'd,
Lies there dissolving into dust again
Torn from each object it so fondly lov'd.
Dear, sad retreat! at evening's solemn hour,
I love to seek thy solitary gloom,
To join the requiem pensive nature pour.
And hear instruction from the silent tomb.
Sweet bird of eve, there tune thy mournful song:
In strains melodious, tell the list'ning grove,
That she whose voice could charm the village throng.
Now joins the choir of the redeem'd above.
There let perennial flowers their fragrance shed:
Let musick's sweet enchantment fill the place,
Where so much worth, such excellence is laid,
Where sorrowing friendship wakes its mournful lays.
SIMONIDES.