As from the wing no scar the sky retains; 430 The parted wave no furrow from the keel; So dies in human hearts the thought of death. Even with the tender tear which nature sheds O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave. Can I forget Philander? That were strange! O my full heart!----But should I give it vent, The longest night, though longer far, would fail, And the lark listen to my midnight song. The sprightly lark's shrill matin wakes the morn; Grief's sharpest thorn hard pressing on my breast, 440 I strive, with wakeful melody, to cheer The sullen gloom, sweet Philomel! like thee, And call the stars to listen: every star Is deaf to mine, enamour'd of thy lay. Yet be not vain; there are, who thine excel, And charm through distant ages: wrapt in shade, Prisoner of darkness! to the silent hours, How often I repeat their rage divine, To lull my griefs, and steal my heart from woe! I roll their raptures, but not catch their fire. 450 Dark, though not blind, like thee, Maeonides![6] Or, Milton! thee; ah, could I reach your strain! 452 Or his, who made Maeonides our own.[7] Man too he sung: immortal man I sing; Oft bursts my song beyond the bounds of life; What, now, but immortality, can please? O had he press'd his theme, pursued the track, Which opens out of darkness into day! O had he, mounted on his wing of fire, Soar'd where I sink, and sung immortal man! 460 How had it bless'd mankind, and rescued me! ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF WILMINGTON. NIGHT SECOND. ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP.