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Full Online Book HomePoemsYe Fates! Who Sternly Point On Sorrow's Chart
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Ye Fates! Who Sternly Point On Sorrow's Chart Post by :mnixon Category :Poems Author :Thomas Gent Date :September 2011 Read :1382

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Ye Fates! Who Sternly Point On Sorrow's Chart

Ye fates! who sternly point on sorrow's chart
The line of pain a wretch must still pursue,
To end the struggles of a bleeding heart,
And grace the triumph misery owes to you
How poor your pow'r!--where fortitude, serene,
But smiling views the glimmering taper shine;
Time soon shall dim, and close the wearied scene,
Bestowing solace e'en on woes like mine.
Ah! stop your course--too long I've felt your chain,
Too long the feeble influence of its pow'r;
The heir of grief may fall in love with pain,
And worst-misfortune feel the tranquil hour.
Hail, fortitude! blest friend life's ills to brave,
All misery boasts, shall wither in the grave!

(The end)
Thomas Gent's poem: Ye Fates! Who Sternly Point On Sorrow's Chart

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To A Lyre To A Lyre

To A Lyre
Friend of the lonely hour, from thy lov'd strain The magic pow'r of pleasure have I known:Awhile I lose remembrance of my pain, And seem to taste of joys that long had flown.When o'er my suffering soul reflection casts The gloom of sorrow's sable-shadowing veil,Recalling sad misfortunes chilling blasts-- How sweet to thee to tell the mournful tale!And tho' denied to me the strings to move Like heavenly-gifted bards, to whom belongThe power to melt the yielding soul to love, Or wake to war, with energetic song.Yet thou, my Lyre, canst cheer the gloomy hour,

The Complaint The Complaint

The Complaint
Ah! this wild desolated spot, Calls forth the plaintive tear;Remembrance paints my little cot, Which once did flourish here.No more the early lark and thrush Shall hail the rising day,Nor warble on their native bush, Nor charm me with their lay.No more the foliage of the oak Shall spread its wonted shade;Now fell'd beneath the hostile stroke Of red destruction's blade.Beneath its bloom when summer smil'd, How oft the rural trainThe lingering hours with tales beguil'd, Or danc'd to Colin's strain.And, when Aurora with the dawn Dispell'd the midnight shade,Her flocks to