Thomas Dermody

James Grant Raymond, "Lines, written on seeing Mr. Dermody a very few Hours before he died" Monthly Mirror 14 (August 1802) 127.

Unhappy youth! whose step the wayward Muse
Has far from plenty, far from peace beguil'd,
Leading thy patient course thro' many a wild,
Dimly illum'd by Hope's oft varying hues.

Oh! if as yet, the sight of woe can wean
From future sorrows thy devoted mind,
Come here, and, weary pilgrim! thou shalt find,
A dreadful warning, a memorial scene,

Where, faint and sinking with unusual grief,
The poet's sacred head untended lies;
No balm to lend his ebbing life relief,
No parent hand to close his languid eyes!

Lo! e'en the Muse, his lost fond idol leaves,
The aching breast, where ardent genius glow'd,
That breast, alas! a cold unmeet abode
No more lost fancy's brilliant spark receives!

His early woes some future wretch may save,
And breathe an awful lesson from the grave!