Jerningham, Edward (1727-1812)

The Old Bard's Farewell: a Poem.

London

Printed for W. Clarke

1811, 1812

"The soul, a cheering lamp, the scene illumes, / Fed with the splendour of ethereal rays, / And bright'ning still, as still the frame decays"

Let none imagine Grace, that sainted fair,
Descends from Heav'n to lull the sons of care:
Though Grace sits brooding o'er th' obedient soil,
Assiduous duty still demands our toil:
Nor must the cultivator e'er refuse
To watch the flow'rs enrich'd with heav'nly dews,
And with those flow'rs, by gales celestial fann'd,
Form his own garland with a trembling hand.
Though age, the night of life, around me glooms,
The soul, a cheering lamp, the scene illumes,
Fed with the splendour of ethereal rays,
And bright'ning still, as still the frame decays:
Tremendous Death! is this thy conq'ring hour?
This thy full effort of tyrannic pow'r?
The frail, the mould'ring casket is thy prey,
The jewel glitters in immortal day.

Light::Lamp

Searching "soul" and "lamp" in HDIS (Poetry)

His last poem, published a few months before his death.

Text from The Old Bard's Farewell: a Poem. 2nd ed. (London: Printed for W. Clarke, 1811).

01/19/2006