The Providence Journal, And Town And Country Advertiser

Selected Poetry.

LINES,
ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED ONLY SON.

Translated from a Danish Inscription, by Thomas Campbell, Esq. Author of "The Pleasures of Hope."

No mortal place ever raise
The broken Pillar of my Days;
Or Fate restore a form so dear
As that which lies unconscious here—
Ah no, my Darco, latest given,
And last reclaimed Gift of Heaven!
Possessing thee, I still should bless
One ling'ring beam of happiness:-
My lov'd, my lot, my only Care,
I vainly thought with thee to Share
Thy Heart's Discourse, so gently kind,
And mould to worth thy pliant mind;
Nor warn'd of all my future Woe,
Profus'd on Happiness below !-
But, losing thee, my blooming Boy,
I cannot love another joy :
For all that stay'd my earthly trust
With thee is buried in the Dust!
Nine charming years had fraught with grace
Thy prightly Soul and lovely Face,
Where harshness had not planted fear,
Nor sorrow wrung one silent tear ;
But frank and warm my Darco flew
To share each Welcome and Adieu—
Each Word, each Step, each Look to 'tend,
My Child, my Scholar, and my Friend!
O, when his gaily-Smiling talk
Endear'd my sweet, my summer walk ;
Or when I sat, at day's decline,
And clasp'd his little hand in mine,
How many Woes were then forgot-.
How blissful seem'd the father's lot !-
And breathing love, my bosom said,
Thus, on a dying couch when laid-
Thus shall I bid thee, Darco, stand,
And grasp thee with my failing hand !
Cold, cold thou, pledge of future charms,
As her who gave thee to my arms,
My buried Hopes, your grave is one—
And Mary sleeps beside her son !
Now hush, my Heart ! afflicting Heaven,
Thy will be done, thy place given;
For mortal hand can never raise
The broken Pillars of my days,
Or earth restore a form so dear,
As that which lies unconscious here.