Stanzas.

Subjoined To The Yearly Bill Of Mortality Of The Parish Of All Saints, Northampton, Anno Domini 1787.


(Composed for John Cox, parish clerk of Northampton.)


Pallida mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas,
Regumque turres.Horace.


Pale death with equal foot strikes wide the door
Of royal halls and hovels of the poor.


While thirteen moons saw smoothly run
The Nens barge-laden wave,
All these, lifes rambling journey done,
Have found their home, the grave.


Was man (frail always) made more frail
Than in foregoing years?
Did famine or did plague prevail,
That so much death appears?


No; these were vigorous as their sires,
Nor plague nor famine came;
This annual tribute Death requires,
And never waves his claim.


Like crowded forest trees we stand,
And some are markd to fall;
The axe will smite at Gods command,
And soon shall smite us all.


Green as the bay-tree, ever green,
With its new foliage on,
The gay, the thoughtless, have I seen,
I passdand they were gone.


Read, ye that run, the awful truth
With which I charge my page;
A worm is in the bud of youth,
And at the root of age.


No present health can health ensure
For yet an hour to come;
No medicine, though it oft can cure,
Can always balk the tomb.


And O! that, humble as my lot,
And scornd as is my strain,
These truths, though known, too much forgot,
I may not teach in vain.


So prays your clerk with all his heart,
And, ere he quits the pen,
Begs you for once to take his part,
And answer allAmen!

William Cowper

William Cowper was an English poet and hymnodist known for his contributions to English literature and the Evangelical revival of the 18th century. He suffered from periods of severe depression and mental illness, which influenced much of his work. Despite his struggles, Cowper produced notable works including 'Olney Hymns' in collaboration with John Newton and 'The Task,' which gained considerable popularity. His poetry is often characterized by its introspective, religious, and sometimes melancholic themes.

William Cowper

Verses Written At Bath, On Finding The Heel Of A Shoe.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Self-Acquaintance.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Elegy VI To Charles Diodati, When He Was Visiting In The Country

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Heroism.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

English

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On A Similar Occasion. For The Year 1790.

Ne commonentem recta sperne.Buchanan.


Despise not my good counsel.


He who sits from day to day
Where the prisond lark is hung,
Heedless of his loudest lay,
Hardly knows that he has sung.


Where the watchman in his round
Nightly lifts his voice on high,
None, accustomd to the sound,
Wakes the sooner for his cry.


So your verse-man I, and clerk,
Yearly in my song proclaim
Death at handyourselves his mark
And the foes unerring aim.


Duly at my time I come,
Publishing to all aloud
Soon the grave must be your home,
And your only suit, a shroud.


But the monitory strain,
Oft repeated in your ears,
Seems to sound too much in vain,
Wins no notice, wakes no fears.
<...

William Cowper

On A Similar Occasion. For The Year 1788.

Quod adest, memento
Componere æquus. Cætera fluminis
Ritu feruntur.Horace.


Improve the present hour, for all beside
Is a mere feather on a torrents tide.


Could I, from heaven inspired, as sure presage
To whom the rising year shall prove his last,
As I can number in my punctual page,
And item down the victims of the past;


How each would trembling wait the mournful sheet,
On which the press might stamp him next to die;
And, reading here his sentence, how replete
With anxious meaning, heavenward turn his eye!


Time then would seem more precious than the joys
In which he sports away the treasure now;
And prayer more seasonable than the noise
Of drunkards, or the music-drawing bow.


Then doubtless man...

William Cowper

On A Similar Occasion. For The Year 1792.

Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Atque metus omnes et inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari!Virg.


Happy the mortal who has traced effects
To their first cause, cast fear beneath his feet
And death and roaring hells voracious fires!


Thankless for favours from on high,
Man thinks he fades too soon;
Though tis his privilege to die,
Would he improve the boon.


But he, not wise enough to scan
His blest concerns aright,
Would gladly stretch lifes little span
To ages, if he might.


To ages in a world of pain,
To ages, where he goes
Galld by afflictions heavy chain,
And hopeless of repose.


Strange fondness of the human heart,
Enamourd of its harm!

William Cowper

On A Similar Occasion. For The Year 1789.

- Placidâque ibi demum morte quievit.Virg.


There calm at length he breathed his soul away.


O most delightful hour by man
Experienced here below,
The hour that terminates his span,
His folly and his woe!


Worlds should not bribe me back to tread
Again lifes dreary waste,
To see again my day oerspread
With all the gloomy past.


My home henceforth is in the skies,
Earth, seas, and sun, adieu!
All heaven unfolded to my eyes,
I have no sight for you.


So spake Aspasio, firm possessd
Of faiths supporting rod,
Then breathed his soul into its rest,
The bosom of his God.


He was a man among the few
Sincere on virtues side;
And all his strength from Scripture drew,
To ...

William Cowper

On the Death of the Bishop of Ely.[1] Anno Aetates 17.

My lids with grief were tumid yet,
And still my sullied cheek was wet
With briny dews profusely shed
For venerable Winton dead,^[2]
When Fame, whose tales of saddest sound
Alas! are ever truest found,
The news through all our cities spread
Of yet another mitred head
By ruthless Fate to Death consign'd,
Ely, the honour of his kind.
At once, a storm of passion heav'd
My boiling bosom, much I grieved
But more I raged, at ev'ry breath
Devoting Death himself to death.
With less revenge did Naso^[3] teem
When hated Ibis was his theme;
With less, Archilochus,^[4] denied
The lovely Greek, his promis'd bride.
But lo! while thus I execrate,
Incens'd, the Minister of Fate,
Wondrous accents, soft, yet clear,
Wafted on...

William Cowper

Address To The Scholars Of The Village School

I come, ye little noisy Crew,
Not long your pastime to prevent;
I heard the blessing which to you
Our common Friend and Father sent.
I kissed his cheek before he died;
And when his breath was fled,
I raised, while kneeling by his side,
His hand:, it dropped like lead.
Your hands, dear Little-ones, do all
That can be done, will never fall
Like his till they are dead.
By night or day blow foul or fair,
Ne'er will the best of all your train
Play with the locks of his white hair,
Or stand between his knees again.
Here did he sit confined for hours;
But he could see the woods and plains,
Could hear the wind and mark the showers
Come streaming down the streaming panes.
Now stretched beneath his grass-green mound
He rests a prisoner of the ground....

William Wordsworth