Palemon dies, and this his final hour: By those fell breakers, where in vain I strove, At once cut off from fortune, life, and love! Far other scenes must soon present my sight, That lie deep-buried yet in tenfold night.— Ah! wretched father of a wretched son, Whom thy paternal prudence has undone; How will remembrance of this blinded care Bend down thy head with anguish, and despair! Such dire effects from Avarice arise, That, deaf to Nature’s voice, and vainly wise, With force severe endeavours to controul The noblest passions that inspire the soul. But, O Thou sacred Power! whose law connects Th’ eternal chain of causes and effects, Let not thy chastening ministers of rage Afflict with sharp remorse his feeble age: And you, Arion! who with these the last Of all our crew survive the Shipwreck past— Ah! cease to mourn, those friendly tears restrain, Nor give my dying moments keener pain! Since Heaven may soon thy wandering steps restore, When parted hence, to England’s distant shore; Shouldst thou, th’ unwilling messenger of Fate, To him the tragic story first relate; Oh! Friendship’s generous ardour then suppress, Nor hint the fatal cause of my distress; Nor let each horrid incident sustain The lengthened tale to aggravate his pain: Ah! then remember well my last request For her who reigns for ever in my breast; Yet let him prove a father and a friend, The helpless maid to succour and defend— Say, I this suit implored with parting breath, So Heaven befriend him at his hour of death! But, oh! to lovely Anna shouldst thou tell What dire untimely end thy friend befel; Draw o’er the dismal scene soft Pity’s veil, And lightly touch the lamentable tale: Say that my love, inviolably true, No change, no diminution ever knew; Lo! her bright image pendent on my neck Is all Palemon rescued from the wreck; Take it! and say, when panting in the wave I struggled life and this alone to save. “My soul, that fluttering hastens to be free, Would yet a train of thoughts impart to thee, But strives in vain; the chilling ice of Death Congeals my blood, and choaks the stream of breath; Resigned, she quits her comfortless abode To course that long, unknown, eternal road— O sacred Source of ever-living Light! Conduct the weary wanderer in her flight; Direct her onward to that peaceful shore, Where peril, pain, and death prevail no more. “When thou some tale of hapless love shalt hear, That steals from Pity’s eye the melting tear; Of two chaste hearts, by mutual passion joined, To absence, sorrow, and despair consigned; Oh! then, to swell the tides of social woe That heal th’ afflicted bosom they o’erflow, While Memory dictates, this sad Shipwreck tell, And what distress thy wretched friend befel: