Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady poem – Alexander Pope

A poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744) , the greatest English poet of “Augustan” or Georgian period

What beck’ning ghost, along the moon-light shade

Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?

‘Tis she!–but why that bleeding bosom gor’d,

Why dimly gleams the visionary sword?

Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell,

Is it, in heav’n, a crime to love too well?

To bear too tender, or too firm a heart,

To act a lover’s or a Roman’s part?

Is there no bright reversion in the sky,

For those who greatly think, or bravely die?

Why bade ye else, ye pow’rs! her soul aspire

Above the vulgar flight of low desire?

Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes;

The glorious fault of angels and of gods;

Thence to their images on earth it flows,

And in the breasts of kings and heroes glows.

Most souls, ’tis true, but peep out once an age,

Dull sullen pris’ners in the body’s cage:

Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years

Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres;

Like eastern kings a lazy state they keep,

And close confin’d to their own palace, sleep.

From these perhaps (ere nature bade her die)

Fate snatch’d her early to the pitying sky.

As into air the purer spirits flow,

And sep’rate from their kindred dregs below;

So flew the soul to its congenial place,

Nor left one virtue to redeem her race.

But thou, false guardian of a charge too good,

Thou, mean deserter of thy brother’s blood!

See on these ruby lips the trembling breath,

These cheeks now fading at the blast of death:

Cold is that breast which warm’d the world before,

And those love-darting eyes must roll no more.

Thus, if eternal justice rules the ball,

Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall;

On all the line a sudden vengeance waits,

And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates.

There passengers shall stand, and pointing say,

(While the long fun’rals blacken all the way)

“Lo these were they, whose souls the furies steel’d,

And curs’d with hearts unknowing how to yield.

Thus unlamented pass the proud away,

The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day!

So perish all, whose breast ne’er learn’d to glow

For others’ good, or melt at others’ woe.”

What can atone (oh ever-injur’d shade!)

Thy fate unpitied, and thy rites unpaid?

No friend’s complaint, no kind domestic tear

Pleas’d thy pale ghost, or grac’d thy mournful bier.

By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos’d,

By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos’d,

By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn’d,

By strangers honour’d, and by strangers mourn’d!

What though no friends in sable weeds appear,

Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year,

And bear about the mockery of woe

To midnight dances, and the public show?

What though no weeping loves thy ashes grace,

Nor polish’d marble emulate thy face?

What though no sacred earth allow thee room,

Nor hallow’d dirge be mutter’d o’er thy tomb?

Yet shall thy grave with rising flow’rs be drest,

And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast:

There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,

There the first roses of the year shall blow;

While angels with their silver wings o’ershade

The ground, now sacred by thy reliques made.

So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name,

What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame.

How lov’d, how honour’d once, avails thee not,

To whom related, or by whom begot;

A heap of dust alone remains of thee,

‘Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!

Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung,

Deaf the prais’d ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.

Ev’n he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays,

Shall shortly want the gen’rous tear he pays;

Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part,

And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart,

Life’s idle business at one gasp be o’er,

The Muse forgot, and thou belov’d no more!

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

External links

Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

Talking Writing Monster’s Page –

Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

• God Neither Known Nor Loved By The World by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Glory To God Alone by William Cowper by William Cowper
• From The Greek Of Julianus by William Cowper by William Cowper
• From Menander by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Epitaph On Mrs. M. Higgins, Of Weston by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Epitaph On Johnson by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Epitaph On Fop, A Dog Belonging To Lady Throckmorton by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Epitaph On A Free But Tame Redbreast, A Favourite Of Miss Sally Hurdis by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Epitaph On Mr. Chester Of Chicheley by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Epigram : To Leonora Singing At Rome (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Epigram : To Christina, Queen Of Sweden, With Cromwell’s Picture (Translation) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Epigram : The Cottager And His Landlord. A Fable (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Epigram : On The Inventor Of Gunpowder (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Epigram : To Leonora Singing At Rome 2 (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Elegy VII. Anno Aetates Undevigesimo (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Elegy VI. To Charles Diodati, When He Was Visiting In The Country (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Elegy V. Anno Aet. 20. On The Approach Of Spring (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Elegy III. Anno Aet. 17. On The Death Of The Bishop Of Winchester (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Elegy II. On The Death Of The University Beadle At Cambridge (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Elegy I. To Charles Deodati (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

Doska or the Board – write anything

Search engines:

Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)

Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.

Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

Parallel Translations of Poetry

Poems by Author and Category

The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works