Henry James Pye
Thee, sad Melpomene, I once again
Invoke, nor ask the idly plaintive verse:
Quit the light reed for sorrow's sober strain,
And hang thy flowerets on my Delia's herse.
Oft by yon silver fountain's sedgy side,
Or through the twilight shade I us'd to rove,
Have sung her beauties to the listening tide,
And fill'd with notes like these the echoing grove:
‘Ye fragrant roses, bow your blooming heads;
‘For can your sweetness with her breath compare?
‘Ye envious lilies, wither in your beds,
‘For is your boasted whiteness half so fair?’
Vain was the lay; for O! heart-breaking thought!
Those heavenly features ne'er again must charm,
That form divine, with each perfection fraught,
Is struck by Fate's inexorable arm.
Thus far, O Death, thy cruel reign extends!
Before thy sickle falls each blushing flower;
But Virtue on ethereal wings ascends,
And smiles disdainful on thy boasted power.
Guided by her—(for Virtue's sacred lore
Was ever dear to Delia's gentle breast)
She to the endless realms of peace shall soar,
The sacred mansions of eternal rest.
Nor these the wreaths that love and fancy twine
Around the tomb, where rests some flatter'd maid;
But honors, due to merit's hallow'd shrine,
By faithful truth with unfeign'd sorrow paid.
The smallest gleam of hope I ne'er could boast;
And raptur'd love in that dire moment fled,
Which shew'd my dearest wish for ever lost,
Which gave my Delia to a rival's bed.
Yet shall thy memory, dear departed shade,
In this sad breast a place for ever find;
For in thy form each beauty was display'd,
‘To charm the senses, and to fix the mind.’
O! were I skill'd the immortal note to raise,
And down the stream of time to wast thy name!
Then would I sing thy worth in matchless lays,
Bright as thine eyes, and spotless as thy fame.
But, though the Muse such arduous flights denies,
Nor bids with fire divine my fancy glow,
These plaintive numbers nobler truth supplies,
The artless voice of unaffected woe.
Henry James Pye's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Elegy V by Henry James Pye )
- All Things Nice, Tania Montgomery
- Love is a Sad and Sorry Chameleon, Hebert Logerie
- Love Thru Poetic Passion, Sandra Feldman
- The Ocean's Gates, Brandt Nightingale
- Tribute to the King, Tania Montgomery
- Abyss, Donald R Charon
- Ode to the Busker, Tania Montgomery
- I have forgotten who I am, gajanan mishra
- Love is a liquid ~~~ vs.56, Mr. Nobody Nothing
- HE IS A MAN, Donald R Charon
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Eldorado, Edgar Allan Poe
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- To Someone Special On PoemHunter, Electric Lady
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- The Night Has A Thousand Eyes, Francis William Bourdillon
- Cleanliness and Happiness, chandra thiagarajan
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Heather Burns
Ono no Komachi
(c. 825—c. 900))
Ralph Waldo Emerson
(1803 - 1882)