Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, POEM ON TOM PUN ON OCCASION OF HIS LATE DEATH, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

POEM ON TOM PUN ON OCCASION OF HIS LATE DEATH, by                    
First Line: "alas! Ye bards, the elegies you've made"
Last Line: "a perfect wit, learn to write common sense"
Subject(s): "sheridan, Thomas (1687-1738);


Alas! ye Bards, the Elegies you've made
Are all in vain, for Pun-sibi's not dead.
Happy is he beneath St. Catherine's shades,
Viewing Mountcashel's seat, and flow'ry meads;
With daily raptures he improves his vein,
And courts the sporting Muses once again.
We should, dear Tom, have had a loss of thee,
If thou were changed to a fruitless tree:
No more would comely B-----y, thy dear w-----e,
The only joy and comfort of thy life,
Repeat with thee her own domestic strife;
No more thy strains would charm th' unfolding air,
No more thy school would thy just laws revere.
But, sure, a school is far too slight a name
For such a noble and majestic frame.
Father of Verse! where all thy state appears,
And with thee all thy sprightly senators;
The lofty fabric where great Julius fell
Could not thy godlike Senate House excel.
But hold! I think some persons say you crib
Your verses, Tom; but I believe they fib,
For such true marks in thee, our author, shine
In every verse thou writ'st, in every line,
That I'll be sworn, dear Tom, they're truly thine.
For who can think that Spenser's sacred Muse
Could write such verse as you, my friend, produce?
Great Addison himself did never yet
Surpass thee, Tom, in eloquence and wit.
Thy farce shall down to future times descend,
While bards thy fancy and thy verse commend,
For in that piece there's such poetic flame
'Twould make th' amazed savages grow tame.
To see great Alexander's sight to fail,
Alas! and drowned in a pot of ale;
'Tis strange that Virgil never once did think
To paint a hero when he raged in drink.
But Pun-sibi to win the sought-for bays
Has led his Muse through new untrodden ways.
If e'er the Muses did a mortal bless
With poetry, 'tis thee, we all confess.
Though thou hast grown so very wise of late,
And filled with poetry your learned pate,
Yet I do hope you never will despise
To take from me a little kind advice:
Well, to begin, before you do commence,
A perfect wit, learn to write common sense.





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